Harry Potter and the Aberrant War
by LJL
Summary: ABANDONED. PostTDH. As much as Harry Potter just wants to be left to his now normal life, he can't ignore the mistreatment of the weak by the powerful or the few by the many. Rating for alluded sexuality and graphic violence.
1. Chapter 1

_**Spoiler Warning:** This story is post-Deathly Hallows. It'll give away key points of that book. For the sake of one of the best literary experiences out there today, if you haven't read that book go do it now. You can always come back and read my drivel later. :)_

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. 'Nuff said. On with the story._

"That was a _religious_ experience."

Harry Potter opened first one eye and then the other, glancing sideways at his girlfriend Ginny Weasley, who was laying sideways next to him in bed, her head propped up on her right arm. The sheets had fallen low enough that Harry was distinctly, and pleasantly, aware of just how little Ginny was wearing.

Bemusedly, Harry smiled. "Good morning," he said.

Ginny smiled, too. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that," she said.

"Good morning?" Harry asked. "I've said it to you loads of times at the Burrow."

"Yeah," Ginny said. "But never like that."

Harry grinned. He was just playing with her anyway. He knew what she meant. He was about to open his mouth to ask Ginny what she wanted to do that day when Harry's bedroom door creaked and popped open.

"Kreacher thought he'd bring you your breakfast in bed, Master Harry, seeing as it's past eleven and you haven't risen yet," the small, hunched elf said. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing Ginny. "Er...hello, Mistress Weasley."

It had taken Ginny about twenty minutes to get over her previous dislike of Kreacher once she saw how a little kindness had changed him. She smiled at him and yawned. "G'morning, Kreacher."

Kreacher bowed slightly. "Your breakfast, sir," he said.

"That's all right, Kreacher," Harry said. "You can bring it back down to the table. We'll probably down in a while."

"But your porridge will be cold, sir!" Kreacher cried. He still had just enough of his old contrary streak in him to contradict his master, something few house-elves were bold enough to do. Harry liked it and encouraged it.

"All right," Harry said. "But if you would, nip downstairs and grab us an extra spoon. We'll share it."

Kreacher's face brightened again. "Right away, sir!" he said, pausing only to place the tray he carried on the end of the bed and bow lowly before bolting back out the door.

"Hard to believe that only a year and a half ago he was the most miserable house-elf I'd ever met," Ginny observed.

"I still feel bad for him sometimes," Harry said. "The only reason I give him any orders is that he starts looking gloomy whenever I don't for more than a day or two."

"Probably doesn't want to be reminded of all those years he spent here, alone," Ginny guessed.

Harry nodded. "That was Hermione's guess."

At the mention of the other girl's name, Ginny perked up again. "Have you spoken with Ron or Hermione lately?" she asked.

"No, they're still on vacation with Bill and Fleur," Harry said.

Ginny frowned. "I still don't think it was a good idea," she stated.

Harry rolled his eyes, but they were still twinkling, giving away that his annoyance was only playful in nature. "Bill and Fleur wanted one last adventure before her pregnancy gets so far along that she can't. And obviously they won't have any time for that kind of thing once the baby's born, so..."

"At least Ron and Hermione went along to make sure Fleur doesn't over exert herself," Ginny allowed.

"Do you really think that's why Hermione and Ron went along?" Harry asked, amused.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Why else would they have?"

Harry, grinning, looked down at the sheets meaningfully.

"Oh, eww," Ginny said, picking up a pillow and hitting Harry with it. "I don't want to think about Ron doing that."

Harry laughed, and a moment later Ginny joined in. Kreacher returned with the extra spoon and then bowed out again, leaving Harry and Ginny to eat the porridge.

"Mmm," Ginny said. "He's a better cook than Mum."

"Don't ever let her hear you say that," Harry said.

Ginny waved him off. "She'd just take it as a challenge. We'd have a week of hyper-cooking and then things would go back to normal."

"Or what passes for normal at the Burrow," Harry said.

This time Ginny rolled her eyes. "As much as I love my family – that place could drive anyone crazy."

"I love it there," Harry said.

"I know," Ginny said. She brushed her hand against his cheek. "You're sweet."

"Don't tell anyone," Harry said, lowing his voice in mirthful mockery. "It'd ruin my reputation."

Ginny smiled, but it was a bit strained. Across the room, on Harry's desk, was yesterday's copy of the _Daily Prophet_, which bore the headline: "Harry Potter, One Year Later – Where Is He?"

At that moment, a tapping came on the window. Harry grabbed his wand off the bedside table and flicked it at the window, which clicked open, admitting a dark owl. With a pang, Harry realized he'd been expecting Hedwig's snowy white form – the snowy white form that would never fly through another window.

Ginny, distracted by the owl, didn't see Harry's moment of inner pain. "I wonder who sent it," she mused.

The owl landed on the bedside table and, as Harry removed the letter from it's right talon, muttered, "Couldn't have been anyone unimportant..."

He unfurled the note and read, Ginny looking over his shoulder.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I know how much you value your privacy and I would not be writing to you were this not a time of some urgency. I regret to inform you that Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban prison. As you were a principle figure in his trial and subsequent life sentence, and as he never fully renounced the ideals of the fallen Dark Lord, we thought it prudent to inform you of his escape._

_Sincerely,_

_Francis Early, Minister of Magic_

"Son of a bitch..." Harry muttered.

"Lucius Malfoy escaped?" Ginny asked.

"He was only in there for eight months and he's already found a way out," Harry said. "Way to go, Minister Early."

Ginny scowled. "Early's just another Fudge clone. He only got to be Minister because of all those people his money helped during Voldemort's rise."

"Donating money to the families of Voldemort's victims took guts," Harry pointed out.

"And look how it's paid off," Ginny said, to which Harry had to concede that she had a point.

"I wonder what they're doing to catch him," Harry said, trailing off. Ginny backed off from him noticeably, causing him to turn and face her.

"Oh, no you're not," she said.

"I'm not what?" Harry asked, confused.

"You're not going to go running off, playing hero and trying to catch an escaped convict," Ginny said, firmly.

Harry was incredulous. "When'd I say I was going to do that?"

The firmness didn't leave Ginny's voice. "I know you. You can't help it."

"If I can't help it then why are you bothering trying to talk me out of it?" Harry asked, rhetorically.

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, then shut it. He had a point. "Because you can't help giving me what I want?" she asked, feebily.

Harry was convincing himself of what he wanted to do quickly. "And do you really want me to sit here and stew while a madman's out running around, hurting people, when I know I can stop him?"

Ginny looked pained. Another point. Another two points, actually – Harry was no doubt better at hunting Dark wizards than anyone the Ministry had. "No..." she said, trailing off. "Hey, I thought you hadn't said you wanted to help track him down!"

"You just convinced me to, thanks," Harry said, hoping that this playful jab would break the tension.

It did the opposite. "I really dislike you sometimes," Ginny said, and there was just enough legitimacy in her voice to make Harry shiver.

Harry's voice took on a harder note. "This is something I have to do," he said. He softened, but only slightly. "Besides – could you ever like me if I sacrificed who I was?"

A weak smile formed. "Fine – but I'm coming with you. And no protests," she said, seeing Harry's mouth fly open. "You can't use my age against me anymore. I'm an adult, just like you."

Harry's mouth stayed open, working itself quickly without producing any sound. He snapped it shut, scratched his chin, and finally spoke. "Okay. But if you die I'm going to kill you."

For one wild second, Ginny honestly thought Harry hadn't realized what he'd said. Then she saw a grin spread across his face and, roaring slightly at having been duped, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back down onto the bed, climbing on top of him.

What happened next caused what remained of Kreacher's porridge to bounce off the bed and spill all over the floor.

A few (blissful) hours later, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley stood outside the office of Francis Early, Minister of Magic. When they'd arrived at the Ministry ten minutes before and requested a meeting with the Minister, his bored secretary informed them that he was booked for a solid month and that if they wanted him to hear their ideas on whatever, they'd have to wait. Then the secretary had looked up, seen Harry and his scar. Things happened quick after that.

The door opened, and a stout wizard with black hair greeted them. The smile he wore didn't quite reach his eyes. "Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, it's so good to finally meet you face to face." He reached out a hand, which Harry shook. He watched as Early took Ginny's hand and bowed (one of Ginny's eyebrows raised), and then Early stepped back and invited the pair into his office.

Early's office wasn't exactly what Harry had expected. It was rather smaller than he would have thought, and far less extravagant. Simple, functional square bookshelves lined one wall, opposite the wall upon which a map of Britain and a number of framed quotations hung. Behind Early's modestly-sized, lightly covered desk was a large window, which displayed a view of London that looked to be around three stories high.

"I trust you got my owl," Early said, sliding around his desk to sit behind it as Harry and Ginny took the two seats in front of it.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "That's why we're here. I want to help you catch Lucius Malfoy."

Early's eyebrows both headed towards his hairline. "I must say, I'm rather surprised," he said. "In every public appearance you've made since the defeat of the Dark Lord, you've said that your days of hunting Dark wizards is over. Why the change?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Back then, the job was over," Harry said. "This is a loose end. I can help tie it up."

Early nodded. "I understand," he said, and his tone of voice suggested that he really did. He nodded again, a somewhat far-off look having seized his eyes. "I'll have to discuss this with the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but I doubt he'll object." Early chuckled.

"What's funny?" Harry asked.

"It's just – I'm sure he'll be glad to see you, what with you being old friends," Early said. The slightest note of malicious pleasure had crept into his voice, but it was gone by the time he picked up his wand off the table and spoke again. "Miss Erines, please ask Mr. Shacklebolt to join me in my office."

"Yes, Minister," the secretary's voice came back, the boredom just barely masked.

"Do forgive Alicia," Early said. "I do most things myself, you see. She doesn't generally have much to do."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt is head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Early said. "My first act as Minister of Magic was to ask him to take over the department. He was the perfect man for the job."

Surprised, Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Couldn't agree more."

A moment later, a knock came on the door. This time, Early didn't bother to get up. "Come in," he said, and the door opened.

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked through, looking every bit as powerful and reserved as he did back in the days of the Order of the Phoenix. "You wanted to see me, Minister?" he asked. Then he noticed Harry, and his somewhat dour expression perked.

"Yes, Kingsely, come in," Early said. "Mr. Potter here has requested to assist you with the capture of Lucius Malfoy and I wanted to get your input before giving him the go-ahead."

Kingsley folded his arms. "I don't see why not," he said, after thinking a moment. "The Auror team I have on the case haven't picked up any leads yet."

"It's settled then," Early said. "I'll leave the details to you." He stood and offered his hand to Harry once more. "Mr. Potter, thank you for coming to us in our time of need. I'm sure the wizarding community of Britain will be just as happy to know that we still have heroes to rely on in times of crisis."

Harry stood to and took Early's hand. "I'd hardly call it a crisis," he said. "Just a lunatic that needs to learn his place."

Early smiled at the bravado. "Once again, Mr. Potter, I understand."

Ginny said her own farewell to the Minister of Magic and she, Harry, and Kingsley all left his office. Once outside, Kingsley relaxed noticeably.

"I hadn't heard that you had been named head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Harry said.

"You must not have been reading the papers," Kingsley replied. "It was all over it, Early made sure of it. Damn politicians."

"It _has_ been ages since you've done anything with the _Daily Prophet_ except scan the front page and throw it away," Ginny pointed out, and Harry blushed.

"Okay, so I'm not up to date. Congratulations, anyway."

Kingsley scowled. "Thanks," he said, anyway. "Listen, I'm meeting with the Auror team to discuss the assignment tomorrow afternoon, in the Department's planning room, at four o'clock. Please come by then."

"I will," Harry said.

"I will, too," Ginny said.

Shacklebolt looked surprised. "You'll be helping us, as well?" he asked.

"I go where Harry goes," she said.

Shacklebolt regarded her seriously for a moment and Ginny blushed ever so slightly under his gaze. "You truly are Molly and Arthur Weasley's daughter," he said, after a time. "You, too, then. Four o'clock. Don't be late."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** So, for some odd reason, doesn't like my indents, so they didn't show up in chapter one. I'll see about selecting a different format for this chapter so that maybe they will show up this time. I've had this problem with the site before and I must say I'm glad it only killed the indents (as I've had times when all line breaks were eliminated, turning the entire chapter into one big block paragraph. Not pretty)._

_Anyway, here's chapter two. Enjoy, and please get them reviews flowing. I live for them._

At precisely four o'clock the next day, Harry knocked on the door of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's planning room. Harry and Ginny had arrived a full hour early to make sure they found the place correctly; when they'd asked Mr. Weasley, by Floo, for directions to the room, he'd offered them so convoluted a path that both Harry and Ginny had developed headaches.

Nevertheless, using a combination of Mr. Weasley's notes and advice from helpful Ministry workers around the hallways, they'd managed to find the place and now stood poised to enter. A second after the knock sounded, the door opened, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's friendly yet serious face greeted them. "Come in," he said, and opened the door wider.

Once more, Harry found himself underwhelmed. The "planning room" really only had two things in it: a white board and a table. There were no chairs or enchanted windows. The room was already inhabited by two other men, plus Kingsley.

"I'd like to introduce Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley. Harry, Ginny, this is Eric Quigen," Kingsley indicated the shorter man with the glasses, "and Warren Upsrike." He pointed to the taller, heavily mustled man. "The four of you have been officially tasked with the retrieval of Azkaban inmate 440, Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Most of you will remember Mr. Malfoy's trial and sentencing eight months ago; Mr. Potter here gave the principle testimony that sealed Mr. Malfoy's fate. He probably would have been executed if not for offering up information on the identities of vicitims of Lord Voldemort and where their remains were hidden, but that's another matter altogether.

"Malfoy escaped from Azkaban prison two nights ago. _How_ he escaped is still a mystery; however, when Ministry workers brought him his breakfast early yesterday morning they discovered his cell door open and Malfoy gone. They alerted officials here immediately, but a quick search of the island confirmed that Malfoy had successfully fled."

"Not too surprising, really," Quigen spoke up. "If he was crafty enough to get out of his cell, I doubt a bit of water would have given him much trouble."

Shacklebolt nodded. "True enough, and we can expect that same level of craftiness from him from here on out. We may have one advantage, though; according the Ministry officials who brought him his food, Lucius Malfoy has succumbed to the influence of the Dementors and has been driven insane."

"How do those officials manage to stomach it?" Harry asked, curious.

"They are rotated," Shacklebolt said. "No man who isn't condemned ever enters Azkaban prison more than once in a month, unless in times of extreme crisis. The men who found Malfoy's cell open had not been in to see him in a month."

Harry nodded and closed his mouth.

"We have compiled a short list of the various places we believe Malfoy might be going," Shacklebolt said, laying down a piece of parchment on the table. Obviously, the "table" was not just a table, because as soon as the parchment touched it, a beam of light clicked on, projecting the parchment's contents onto the wall with the white board.

Shacklebolt spoke again. "Malfoy Manor was obviously our first guess," he said.

"Not a soul stirring there," Upsrike said. "We went in yesterday morning to check the place. It's obvious that the kid and his mother don't even live there anymore."

"We'll have to keep checking it," Shacklebolt said. "Until we get a firmer idea of where Malfoy is and what he's up to, he could be anywhere – or he could be going anywhere. Did you set the wards there?"

"Yes," Quigen said. "If Lucius Malfoy comes within one hundred yards of his old mansion everyone in the Ministry will know about it." When Harry looked confused, Quigen continued. "From the screeching."

Shacklebolt returned their attention to the list on the wall. "We've outlined a few other places he could have gone," he said. "As you can see, each is a bit of a stretch. Still, the list comes directly from Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, and..."

"You trust them?" Harry asked.

"No," Shacklebolt said. "Not completely. But this is all we have to go on, right now, so that's what we'll go on.

"I want the four of you to investigate the next entry on the list – the Lestrange Manor. Dismissed."

Quigen and Upsrike both nodded. This wasn't a big deal to them. Harry and Ginny both blanched upon hearing the name. As Shacklebolt left the room, Quigen turned to Harry. "Something the matter?" he asked.

"Lestrange," Harry said. "I don't have any fond associations with that name."

Upsrike laughed. "No one does. At least, not anyone worth mentioning."

Ginny steeled herself. "One person worht mentioning might" The three men turned to her. "Lucius Malfoy."

Upsrike and Quigen shared bemused smiles. "Sounds like she's got her head screwed on straight," Quigen said.

"Shall we?" Ginny asked, withdrawing her wand. The two Aurors nodded, and all four of them Disapparated.

They popped back into existence in the middle of a dark, overcrowded wood. The sky was not visible below the tree line and on the forest floor it was dark as night. Harry immediately raised his wand and said, "_Lumos_."

As Harry's wand light illuminated the area, Lestrange Manor came into view. The old, run-down looking mansion was deeply affected by age and neglect. Paint peeled from the walls and several windows were broken. The trees that maintained the constant, oppressive darkness actually grew through the middle of the house as well as around it. The massive front door, covered in rusty iron bolts, hung from its broken hinges, damaged so badly that Harry wondered whether it had been forced open.

As Harry, Ginny, Upsrike and Quigen approached the door, Harry got a chance to examine it (and the house) closer. The door was dusty in too many places to have been forced recently and it was obvious that they were the first people to walk on the path in some time.

"Looks deserted," Quigen said.

"Unless he's Apparated directly into it," Upsrike replied.

"Hope he hasn't got a wand," Quigen said.

"Isn't he still dangerous without one?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, yes," Upsrike replied. "But not nearly as dangerous as he would be with one. Come on, let's see if the bugger's here." He pushed on the destroyed door and it fell away completely, onto the ground next to the doorway. Upsrike lit his own wand and slowly entered the doorway. Quigen followed.

"Mr. Malfoy?" he called. "If you're here, we'd like to talk to you. We're here to help you."

_Do they honestly think that'll work?_ Harry thought, but kept it to himself. He pushed his own way into the house, grabbing hold of Ginny's hand and pulling her closely after him. He didn't want to leave her out in the dark in front of the massive, evil old house – not that he much wanted to bring her into it, either.

Upsrike and Quigen had both stopped short of leaving the entry hallway. "He's not out here, not that we'd thought he would be," Quigen said. "We'll split into two teams. Remember, if you see him, Stun first and ask questions later. Got it?"

Harry and Ginny both nodded and the two Aurors pressed their way through one of the doors that led out of the entry way. Harry picked the first door on his left, pushed it open with a decidedly shrill squeak, and once more led Ginny through it.

The room they entered had probably, at some point, been quite beautiful. The reddish, wood-paneled walls were accented by a deep red carpet and a large chandelier, as well as several dark green couches. However, what was once a grand sitting room had fallen into disrepair. A thick layer of dust covered everything in the room, including the peeling walls and the dim, unreflective, dirty chandelier, which was noticeably missing several candles. Harry considered lighting the ones that remained so that he could put out his wand, but decided against it; the old thing looked like it could fall at any time and Harry didn't want to have to deal with the mess and fuss that would come with such a loud crash.

"I don't see him," Ginny said, and Harry was brought back to the purpose of their visit to Lestrange Manor.

"Nope," Harry said. "Doesn't look like anyone's been here in years."

Ginny looked again. "Weird, isn't it," she said.

"Not really, the Lestranges have been dead for a year now."

"I know," Ginny said. "But like you said, it looks like no one's lived here in _years_, plural. It doesn't look like they were staying here a year ago."

"So?" Harry asked. "Probably wasn't safe for Azakaban escapees to go and hide in their own houses."

"Even when the Death Eaters had control of the Ministry?" Ginny asked.

Harry stopped and considered. "It probably doesn't matter," he said. "You know how Bellatrix was, she couldn't stand being more than five feet from Voldemort...probably just couldn't get a good night's sleep without knowing he was in the next room."

Ginny frowned. "I don't think – " she began, but she was cut off by an exceptionally loud bang and a huge hiss. The blood drained from Ginny's face.

"Uh oh," Harry said. He turned and ran back to the door of the sitting room, Ginny following close behind him. He threw open the door, ran down the hall to the door Quigen and Upsrike had gone through, and peered in. What he saw made his heart slow for a split second and the begin racing faster than unicorn.

Standing in the middle of the room was Upsrike, frozen in place with a horrified expression on his face, staring a silver sink. Quigen lay in the corner of the room, cradling his arm and burying his head as far down as possible, waving his wand about with his good hand. Sitting across the room from him in the middle of a blasted-out wall, facing him intently and flicking its tongue in and out of its mouth, was a gigantic, angry-looking basilisk.

Harry pushed Ginny back against the wall, yelling "Cover your eyes!" as he followed his own advice. The basilisk's lower body whipped out, hitting Harry in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards, slamming into the door frame right next to Ginny. As far as Harry could tell with his eyes closed, the basilisk maintained its focus on Quigen. Beside him, Ginny edged along the wall.

"What do we do?" she asked, breathless.

"I don't know!" Harry said. "Last time I fought one of these Fawkes showed up and baled me out."

The basilisk hissed and Quigen, honing in on the sound, fired off a stunner at it. The spell rebounded and shattered the window over the sink. The basilisk hissed again, unhurt but no doubt annoyed. Quigen fired another stunner, which also rebounded, this time hitting the wall just inches above Harry's head.

"Think, Harry!" Ginny practically screamed. Out of his peripheral vision Harry saw the snake slithering slowly closer to the bleeding Quigen. "That thing must have a weak spot!"  
It clicked. "It's eyes!" he yelled. He raised his wand toward the source of the hissing. "_Conjunctivius!_"

A jet of yellow light burst from Harry's wand, and a second later the angry hiss of the basilisk turned into a scream of pain and rage. It thrashed again, tearing a great long gash in the wall as the end of its body danced wildly around the room. Harry took the creature's momentary distraction as an advantage, jumping forward and seizing Quigen by the arm, dragging him to his feet. Unfortunately, it was his injured arm, which caused him to gasp in sudden pain. The enraged basilisk heard the sound and stopped its thrashing long enough to lash out with its venomous teeth, but Harry had already moved Quigen out of the way and the creature's off-balance, wild thrust carried it forward headfirst into, and through, the wall.

Harry and Quigen grabbed the petrified Upsrike and dragged him out of the room as Ginny, her wand pointing towards the basilisk while her head remained pointed safely away from its murderous gaze, covered them. Once the two men and the petrified statue were outside the room all three who could still move pressed their backs up against the wall, breathing heavily. "I'll bet they left that thing to guard the place when they were shipped off to Azkaban and then couldn't get control of it once they were back," Ginny said. She turned to Harry. "Doesn't matter, huh?"

"Focus," Quigen said, nursing his bleeding left arm. "Harry, you've fought basilisks before?

"Once," Harry said. "I killed it by driving a sword through its head."

Quigen allowed a brief, grim smile. "Got any swords?" he asked.

"I must have left it in my other pants," Harry said, wryly. "What else do we have that we could use as a weapon?"  
"The problem isn't weaponry," Ginny said. "The problem's getting close enough to it to hurt it. The only reason you could get close enough was because it's eyes were gouged out by Fawkes and its death glare wasn't active. How do we kill it without being able to look at it?"

Harry's mind raced. "We bring down the house on top of it," he said.

Now both Quigen and Ginny turned to him, their heavy breathing for the moment forgotten. "Are you mental?" Ginny asked, no doubt voicing Quigen's opinion as well.

"Maybe, but that's beside the point," Harry said. "We can't get close enough to hurt it while it's free to move about and turn and kill us with a glance; if we bring down the house on top of it, it'll be pinned and we'll have some time to figure out how to get close enough to finish it."

Slowly, Quigen smiled. "All right then, Mr. Potter," he said, mock business-like tones creeping into his voice. "Let's do it."

Once again, he and Harry seized Upsrike under the arms, as Ginny lead the way down the entry hall back towards the front door. She blew through the doorway and was about to turn back to help or at least encourage Harry and Quigen when the disoriented basilisk found its wits and came roaring through the wall.

Harry, who was behind Quigen and Upsrike, gave them both one final shove. Both men went tumbling through the door way, Upsrike's frozen form bouncing at odd angles. Ginny caught a flash of Harry diving onto his back, pulling out his wand, and yelling "_Reducto!_" before a large explosion caused the house to seemingly cave in on itself.

"Harry!" Ginny yelled.

A moment later, as Ginny bit her fingernails, Harry pulled himself out of the wreckage. A few feet away, the basilisk moved its head feebly. Without looking, Harry using a levitation charm on several sharp pieces of rock, which assaulted the basilisk's head, finally killing it as it opened its mouth to yell in pain and several shards lodged their way through its brain.

As calmly as he could (his legs were shaking a bit), Harry brushed himself off and walked back through the wreckage of the destroyed front hall of the house. As he emerged from the settling dust, Ginny bounded up and hugged him tightly.

Behind them, Quigen nodded his approval. "Well done, Potter," he said, a new note of respect in his voice. "I'd be lunch meat by now if it weren't for you, and Upsrike...well, he'd be as stiff as ever, I suppose."

The three of them laughed, and for a moment Harry could have sworn he'd seen Upsrike's eyes roll in annoyance. "How'd he see it?" he asked.

"Sink," Quigen said. "At least I think it must have been the sink."

"Lucky man," Harry said.

Quigen nodded. "I'll Side-Along him over to St. Mungo's. You know the way...?"

When both Harry and Ginny nodded.

After checking Upsrike into St. Mungo's, and getting checked over themselves, Harry and Ginny accompanied the bandaged Quigen back to the Ministry of Magic. Quigen himself had been quite lucky; the injury to his left arm had been caused by debris and not the basilisk's fangs.

They Apparated into the Ministry's front hall. As soon as they'd gotten their bearings they started their trek down towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, brushing through the ever-bustling crowd of Ministry workers and guests.

"Mr. Shacklebolt is not going to be happy," Quigen muttered.

"No, he isn't," Harry said. Quigen obviously had forgotten Harry's presence, because he looked back at him, surprised. "But he'll get over it."

Ginny and Harry fell into step next to Quigen. "You've known Mr. Shacklebolt for some time, right?" Quigen asked.

Harry ticked off the numbers in his head. "About four years now," he said. "I met him when I met the rest of the Order of the Phoenix."

Quigen's smile turned to one of nostalgia and longing. "I'd just graduated from Hogwarts four years ago," he said. "Took me another three after that to become an Auror. Don't I remember people mentioned how you wanted to become an Auror someday?"

Harry's cheer faltered ever so slightly. "I doubt that life is for me anymore," he said.

"Your performance at Lestrange Manor suggests otherwise," a voice from behind them spoke. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I've just had an owl from St. Mungo's informing me of everything you told them. I'm glad you're all in one piece. I wish I could give you some time off to rest and heal, but we have something that needs immediate attention."

Instantly Harry's senses perked up. "What is it?" he asked.

"The wards on Malfoy Manor just went off."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Things are proceeding quite nicely. I just realized – the meaningfulness of the title hasn't really become apparent yet. I suppose the overall plot hasn't really become apparent yet either, and what I have planned is too complicated to succinctly summarize for the site's purposes. Oh, well. Hopefully everyone will keep reading, especially with the assurance that things are going to get very interesting very quickly. On to Potterland._

What seemed like moments later, Harry, Ginny, Quigen, Shacklebolt, and two other Aurors, whom Shacklebolt had hastily introduced as Isaacs and Ruble, stood just outside the gate to the massive, looming Malfoy Manor.

"Wands out," Shacklebolt said, his deep, calming voice not betraying an ounce of tension. Harry admired his steely nerves. All six of them drew their wands as Shacklebolt, leading the group tapped the gate with his wand, causing it to swing open.

From the gate that fronted the large, sweeping driveway, Harry could tell that Malfoy Manor was cold and dead. No lights shone from the inside of the mansion. It quite reminded him of Lestrange Manor, although without all the choking trees. Harry glanced at the horizon. The sun was setting. Soon Malfoy Manor would be indistinguishable from its cousin.

Harry, Ginny, and the others advanced slowly up the drive towards the house. Harry heard Shacklebolt, who was only a few feet in front of him, mutter something, and his wand lit up, illuminating the quickly darkening blacktop. As they proceeded, Shacklebolt constantly swung the wand back and forth over the drive, spreading light to every crevice to prevent anything from ambushing them.

They had just reached the top of the driveway when, as Harry wondered why a group of wizards would need so long a driveway, a voice sounded, "He isn't here. I'm the one who set off the wards."

Harry looked up and saw a familiar figure perched against the door of Malfoy Manor. Harry's lip curled. He'd have rather found Lucius Malfoy. In a pinch he'd almost have said that he'd have rather found Lord Voldemort.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Shacklebolt said. He wasted no formalities on the young man. "I told you to stay in Hogsmeade with your mother."

"I wanted to help," Draco said.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right," he said. "Do we have to listen to this?"

Far from Harry's derision, Shacklebolt looked interested. "You've already helped," he said. "Was there something else you thought you could do for us?"

"Yeah," Malfoy said, glaring at Harry. "I could show you where my father is."

That got Harry's attention. His surprise quickly turned to anger. "You lying little git," he snarled. "You knew. We could have been killed earlier this afternoon on a wild goose chase and all the time, you knew."

Ginny leaned in behind Harry and whispered, "I don't remember any geese."

Harry replied with another whisper. "I'll explain later."

Draco, meanwhile, had smiled. "Really, I don't care if you live or die, Potter," he said. "Did the Minister of Magic drag you out of that nice, comfortable life of yours to help catch my father? Or did you have to worm your way into his good graces to get put on this assignment?"

"You'd know a thing or two about living comfortably, only difference is that I don't do it at other peoples' expense," Harry snapped. "Either tell us what you know or get lost."

"Harry, calm down," Shacklebolt said, raising a wandless hand, palm out, to calm Harry. He turned back to Malfoy. "Draco, if there's something else you know, now is the time to let us in on it."

Malfoy hesitated, the cocky smile he always wore when trading insults with Harry hanging a bit limper than it had a moment before. "I didn't want to bring this up in front of my Mum," he said. "She'd hate it if she thought we'd actually helped you track him down. She's no criminal but she does love him."

"And what, you don't?" Harry asked, derisively.

"No," Draco said, surprising Harry. "If it weren't for him I'd never have gotten dragged into that whole mess with the Dark Lord. He deserves to be in jail for everything he did – to me."

"The information, Draco," Shacklebolt said, allowing a small amount of irritation into his voice.

Malfoy continued staring at Harry. "There's a cabin we used to summer in just north of Leeds," Malfoy said. "It's close to the shore and it's pretty secluded, with plenty of food stockpiled in case of storms. He's probably there."

Shacklebolt nodded. "You did the right thing Draco," he said. He turned back to Harry, Ginny, and the Aurors. "We shoud get back to the Ministry and see what we can do about finding this place. Thanks for the tip."

All of them except Harry Disapparated. "What do you want, eh?" Malfoy asked, noticing Harry lingering for a moment.

"Abandoning your family is low, even for you, Malfoy," Harry said.

Before the blond young man could respond Harry had Disapparated.

Harry appeared a moment after the others. Ginny looked at him curiously but didn't ask why he'd taken a more time to get there. Shacklebolt saw Harry appear and nodded. Apparently he'd been waiting.

"I just cast a small search spell," he said. "It didn't find any cabins in the area."

Harry's blood boiled up and he wondered if they'd underestimated Malfoy.

"It did find a large gap in the woods where, according to the spell, noting exists."

"Sounds like someone tried a Concealment Charm and went a little overboard," Ruble said.

"Wands out," Shacklebolt repeated, and led the way through the dark forest.

"No shortage of dark forests in Britain..." Harry muttered as they walked.

"Hmm?" Ginny asked, keeping her voice down to prevent it from carrying and warning Malfoy that they were coming.

"Never mind," Harry said. "Dumb joke."

"Why'd it take so long for you to Apparate in?" she asked.

"I had a quick word with Malfoy," Harry said.

"You didn't hurt him, did you?" she asked, pushing a low hanging tree branch out of the way as they continued to walk.

Harry almost laughed, then decided it was a legitimate question. "No," he said. "Just needed to reinforce how much of a git he really is."

Ginny smiled. Ahead of them, they both heard Shacklebolt stop moving through the woods. A moment later, they caught up to him, and understood why.

They'd emerged from the woods into a clearing about half the size of a football field. It looked like a stereotypical grassy meadow – around the edges. In the center was a big cube of what appeared to be absolutely nothing. Peering down, Harry could see that the "nothing" extended down about twenty feet, giving the impression that someone had once dropped an enormous cube into the meadow and had since picked it up and left.

"Well that can't be good," Harry said.

"Do not worry, Harry," Shacklebolt said. "It ought to be just an overactive Concealment Charm. Once we step across we'll be able to see the cabin."

"Or we'll all fall thirty feet onto the bedrock," Isaacs intoned.

Shacklebolt shot him a look and he stopped talking. Approaching the barrier cautiously, Shacklebolt put his head through first to have a look around. The instant his head crossed the line of concealment, it disappeared leaving Shacklebolt headless to Harry's eyes. He couldn't help it – he shuddered at the sight.

Shacklebolt pulled back after only a moment with his head stuck inside the cabin's concealment line. "He's in there," he said. "There is light coming from inside the cabin. Pair off and advance by the numbers."

He and Quigen moved off to the left, while Ruble and Isaacs went right, leaving Harry and Ginny standing a bit confused.

"By the numbers?"

"No idea."

"Just stay low and don't run too far forward," Shacklebolt said, in a loud whisper.

Harry and Ginny both nodded. Shacklebolt pointed towards the cabin and all six of them, crouching low and holding their wands at the ready, walked in.

Instantly, Harry wasn't looking at a big cube of nothingness, but was instead looking at the entire meadow, plus a medium-sized, wood log cabin. Harry was struck by the modesty of the cabin, then reminded himself that it was probably much larger on the inside. Light flickered in all of the cabin's windows.

Harry and Ginny crouched low and kept an eye on Shacklebot and the others. It didn't take long for them to figure out what he'd meant by "by the numbers." The groups advanced one at a time, covering each other as they went.

Harry and Ginny were just ducking down again when the door of the cabin was flung open and a barrage of spells issued forth. Harry was just a little bit too slow, but Ginny managed to push him aside and duck herself before any of them hit them. The spells continued on and hit the ground behind them, causing a number of less than pleasant affects.

Harry heard Shacklebolt curse. From his left and his right Harry saw a number of spells converge on the doorway to the cabin, which shut again violently. Harry caught the slightest glimpse of silvery-blond hair before the cabin was totally buttoned up again.

Shacklebolt got up and sprinted towards the door, disregarding his own safety. Harry, Ginny, and the three Aurors joined him there. "So much for the element of surprise," Shacklebolt said. "He has a wand, and no doubt he has traps set. Be prepared for anything. _Alohomora_."

The spell hit the door with no affect. Apparently, Malfoy had left his front door unlocked in the face of six enemies. This fact made Harry's stomach turn over nervously. Shacklebot was undeterred – he took a single step back and kicked the door in, breaking the hinges and sending small chips of wood fluttering about.

Quigen was the first in, closely followed by Isaacs and Ruble. As soon as they had the entry hallway secured, Harry and Ginny entered, and finally Shacklebolt. As Harry had predicted, the log cabin was much larger on the inside than it was on the outside. The entry hall alone was at least twice the size of the cabin when viewed from the outside.

"We have no idea how big this "cabin" is, and he could be anywhere inside it," Shacklebolt said.

"Maybe we ought to have brought the boy," Isaacs said.

"No need to endanger an innocent life," Shacklebolt said, and Harry couldn't help but snort. Shacklebolt and Ginny both frowned at him. "We'll split into three teams. Stay as close together as possible and shout for help if you find him."

Isaacs and Ruble set off down the hall to the very last door, while Shacklebolt and Quigen picked the middlemost one. Harry selected a door at random and pushed it open. Ginny followed, still frowning.

"Isn't it about time you made up?" she asked.

"Huh?" Harry grunted, distracted and not comprehending.

"You and Malfoy," Ginny said. "You'd think the two of you would have put it all behind you by now."

"He's evil, Ginny," Harry said.

"No, he isn't, he was just being used," Ginny said.

Harry turned to face her. "I spent six years at Hogwarts around him, and every time something happened that he didn't like it was, "My father..." this and "My father..." that. He knew perfectly well why his father had enough clout for him to get away with things like that, but when it came time to really come face to face with what his father was, he couldn't stomach it. And now, he blames dear old Dad for his shortcomings, and turns him in. _That's_ Draco Malfoy."

"You know him so well," Ginny mused. "I doubt he knows himself so well as you think you know him."

"Could we focus on catching the raving lunatic, please?" Harry asked, starting to get a bit annoyed.

Ginny raised her hands in defeat. "Fine, fine," she said. Harry knew that she'd get the last word on it – but later.

The room they were in was large and cavernous, with three-story high ceilings, gold trim on every line of the ornately decorated walls, and a hard, parquet wooden floor. Harry couldn't help but smile at the Malfoys' excessive tastes. "A ballroom," he said. "We're in a log cabin – with a ballroom."

"It's quite beautiful," Ginny said. She sounded a bit grudging in doing so, but to _not_ admit the beauty of the ballroom would have been sheer idiocy.

"I don't see Malfoy," Harry said.

The both of them were about to turn and leave when Harry started. He thought he'd seen a flash of movement. Looking around, he realized that the lights in the ballroom were exceptionally low. Harry pulled out his wand and muttered, "_Lumos_."

Harry's wand lit up, and both he and Ginny gasped as it did so. The dim light of Harry's wand illuminated scores of people in masks, whirling and dancing about. As the wand light grew stronger, they came into sharper focus, becoming more and more opaque. Amazingly, Harry also started to hear music, faint at first, but within seconds it was extraordinarily loud.

"Merlin's beard," Harry muttered.

Instantly, every figure in the room stopped shockingly short, as though momentum didn't figure into their movement at all. They all turned their heads sharply to stare at Harry, and he could see that underneath their masks the dancers' eyes glowed red.

"_Don't interrupt the music._"

The words were an icy hiss that routed Harry to the spot. For the life of him he couldn't get a single part of his body to move. As he struggled to pick his feet up, he saw, horrified, that the dancers had stopped using their feet and were now floating towards him. As they drew nearer the fine livery they wore began to degrade and peel, falling away in chunks and revealing similarly degraded flesh and bones. The lead dancer reached out a hand towards Harry, and now Harry could see through the mask, and there was no face there, only a passive, empty skull...

"_Silencio!_"

Harry felt his petrification lift as the music abruptly stopped. The dancers all screamed silently, covering their ears as though being buffeted by noise. Slowly, they burst into white flame and disappeared.

Harry turned to Ginny to thank her, but found that no sound came from his mouth. For her part, Ginny looked a mixture of scared and calm. She grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him out of the ballroom, back into the entry hall.

"What in the hell was that?"

Harry just shook his head. "I have no idea," he said. "Although I wouldn't put it past Lucius Malfoy to have thrown a party and then murdered all the guests just to make a decent trap..."

Just then, the door Quigen and Shacklebolt had gone through was thrown open, and both men came stumbling through. Both men were covered in snow and an arctic breeze followed them, causing Harry to shiver slightly.

"About two seconds after stepping through the door it started to snow," Quigen said, catching sight of Harry and Ginny as they rushed up to make sure the two older men were fine. "Took us all this time just to find the door again. Did you have any better luck?"

"Ballroom full of dead people," Harry said, and Quigen stared. "Don't ask. He wasn't there."

"Where are Isaacs and Ruble?"

Shacklebolt looked down the hall towards the door they'd gone through. Quickly, the four of them hurried down and threw open the door, wands ready to defend against whatever was behind it.

What turned out to be behind it was a sunny beach. Deeply surprised, Harry followed Shacklebolt through, with Ginny and Quigen not far behind. After a moment of waiting to be attacked, Shacklebolt straightened up. "Isaacs! Ruble! What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Harry followed Shacklebolt's gaze. Sitting in a pair of beach chairs and sipping drinks from margarita glasses were the two Aurors, both wearing slightly glazed smiles. Upon hearing their boss' voice, both of them tried to sit up, but the two bikini-clad women who sat next to them pushed them back down and smiled brightly and (Harry thought) insincerely, picking up small vines of grapes and plucking them off to feed to the two men.

"H-hello, sir," Isaacs said. His voice was thick and shaky, as though he weren't really paying attention to what he was saying. "You've got to try this...so relaxing...haven't felt this good since my wife died..."

Shacklebolt looked livid. "Isaacs, stand at attention when you address me!" he said, in a forceful tone that was ten times more intense than any shout or yell.

It snapped Isaacs out of his trance, at least enough to dodge his attendant and rise to his feet. As soon as he left contact with the chair, the dazed look drained away. "Sorry, sir," he said. "I...I'm not sure what came over me."

"_Stupify!_"

The red jet of light from Quigen's wand hit Isaacs' former attendant, who had also risen. When she crumpled to the ground, Harry saw that she held a long, crooked knife in her left hand, which which she'd been about to stab Isaacs in the back. Looking even more flustered as he looked down, all Isaacs could manage was a confused grunt.

"The chairs must be enchanted," Shacklebolt said. "As soon as you leave contact, the spell wears off and the attendants kill you." He pulled out his wand and calmly stunned Ruble's attendant, who fell sideways off her stool. As she did, the chair in which Ruble sat disintegrated into dust, and he fell onto the sand below.

A bit dazed from the sudden, violent transition, Ruble sat up slowly, looked around, and said, "What happened?"

"You were enchanted," Shacklebolt said. "The affects should wear off in a moment or two."

Shacklebolt turned back towards the door and Harry followed, seeing Quigen offer a hand to Ruble to help him up. They all passed quickly back into the entrance hall. "He's here somewhere," Shacklebolt said. "But his traps are even more creative than I'd anticipated. From now on we all stay together."

Shacklebolt waited until Isaacs and Ruble had gotten their bearings and then led the group towards the door next to the ballroom. Harry followed behind Ruble, who had taken position behind Shacklebolt. As they crossed the center of the entry hall for the first time, the hair on the back of Harry's head stood on end. Something wasn't quite right.

Right underneath the centerpiece chandelier was a giant, engraved snake, set into the floor. Shacklebolt and Ruble both managed to walk over it, but then Harry's foot made contact with it.

A giant snake's head erupted out of the floor, surging forward and biting Ruble in half before anyone could shout. Harry, on top of the creature's head, fell to his knees and grabbed on with all of his might to the creature's scaly flesh. Shacklebolt's reflexes were just good enough to allow him to roll out of the way of the giant snake's rampage.

From behind, Harry heard Ginny, Isaacs, and Quigen shout in alarm. The snake was impossibly fast and agile; it skidded maybe five feet after missing Shacklebolt, then turned and reared for another assault. Isaacs and Quigen both sent stunners at its underbelly, but Harry could feel the pure strength of the scales under his fingers. He wasn't surprised when both spells ricocheted away without harming the creature.

The snake lunged towards Quigen, Isaacs, and Ginny, opening its mouth and allowing small bits of Ruble's flesh and blood to fly out. The three managed to keep from getting caught in the snake's powerful jaws, but they didn't escape unscathed; Quigen had a long gash torn in his left leg by one of the snake's smaller fangs.

"Harry!" Shacklebolt yelled. "We have to get under its armor!"

"Try a Conjunctivitus Curse!" Harry yelled.

Almost instantly four yellow streams of light converged on the creature. Three of them missed; one hit Harry. Harry's vision turned so watery he couldn't see anything but vague shapes. As his eyes began to sting he was forced to close them.

"Thanks! That helped!" Harry shouted, sarcastically.

"Sorry!" Isaacs shouted back.

The snake made another lunge for Harry's friends and this time managed to get hold of Ginny's cloak; quickly, she undid the front clasp, and the snake continued on again chewing angrily on the empty fabric.

"We're not going to be able to keep dodging this thing much longer!" Shacklebolt yelled. He fired a stunner at the snake, aiming for its head, but once again the spell did no damage. The snake leaned back and roared in fury and Harry had to grasp even tighter to keep from being thrown off. As his grip tightened, Harry noticed that the scale he was holding on to peeled back slightly.

An idea came to Harry. "Everyone get clear!" he yelled. "This thing's gonna be all kinds of angry in about five seconds!"

As his friends scrambled away, Harry pulled hard on the scale he was holding on to, reached quickly into his robes for his wand, jammed it into the small gap he'd created in the snake's armor, and yelled, "_Incendio!_"

The layer of flesh underneath the snake's hard, scaly skin ignited. Thrashing in extreme pain and anger, the snake finally manged to throw Harry off, who landed hard on his back a dozen feet away. Shaking his head to clear the stars that had sprung into his vision, Harry watched as the snake reared back, its whole body engulfed in blue flames. Finally, the snake used the last bit of its strength and crashed to the ruined floor of the entry hallway.

Harry climbed to his feet, walked over to inspect the dead snake, and gave it a good kick. "I'm really starting to hate snakes," he said.

The others joined him, looks of awe on all of their faces. Quigen's broke first, probably due to the large amount of pain he was no doubt suffering. He, too, kicked the dead snake. "What's up with all the snakes, anyway?"

"Lord Voldemort put into place safeguards to protect the homes of his Death Eaters," Shacklebolt said, turning his gaze down towards the snake. "He used snakes because he alone could fully control them. We've encountered them before – although never this big."

"Probably used an Engorgement Charm on it," Isaacs theorized. "That'd explain the size – and why it was so pissed off."

The five of them turned to look at what remained of Ruble. Harry, unable to bear the sight (which, he surmised, was far less than half of the man) turned away. Harry saw Shacklebolt open his mouth to say something when Harry stopped.

"Quiet," Harry said, and they all silenced themselves. "Did you hear something?"

Quickly and quietly, Harry slipped around to the other side of the smoldering snake and peered into the whole it had made coming up out of the floor. Sitting inside the whole was a crazed looking Lucius Malfoy. Harry swung his wand up and pointed it at the man, but Malfoy took no notice of him.

"Who are you?" he asked, swaying back and forth. "Why are you here? 442, 442..."

Harry examined him closer. Harry had only seen Lucius Malfoy disheveled on a handful of occasions, but even those memories didn't come close to comparing to this. Great clumps of Malfoy's silvery blond hair were missing and his sallow, pale skin hung from his bones. His eyes had great, purple circles around them and his lined inmates' robes more closely resembled rags than clothing. The stink of him reached Harry all the way from the bottom of the pit, which was at least fifteen feet. For a moment, Harry almost pitied him.

"Mr. Malfoy, we're here to help you," Harry said, scarcely believing that the words he'd derided not too long before were actually coming from his mouth. "It's okay now."

"That's a lie! No one can help! No one can save us from him!" Malfoy screeched, curling into a ball and clutching his robes to him tightly.

"This is the criminal genius who broke out of Azkaban?" Isaacs said.

"Just let us help you, and we'll protect you from him," Harry said. "Just come on up."

"Weren't you listening? You can't save us from him!" Malfoy said. "It's not his power, its that...he's him! 442, 442..."

Malfoy continued repeating the numbers over and over and Harry started to get annoyed. "Look, he's dead, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said. "I killed him."

Harry was assuming that the obviously insane Malfoy was afraid of Voldemort. Harry was surprised, then, when Malfoy looked up at him and said, quite clearly, "No, not him! 442! 442!"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Who is 442?" he asked.

The crazed Malfoy had apparently lost his patience. "He'll destroy everything we worked for!" He pulled out a wand, but before he could point it at Harry, four stunners hit him, driving him backwards into the wall of the pit, unconscious.

"He'll wake up back in Azkaban," Shacklebolt said. He turned to Harry and offered him his hand. "Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You're a hero – again."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**_ _Many thanks to jlyric for dropping a few reviews my way (hopefully last chapter answered your question). Those reviews are what keep me writing, so pour 'em on in, folks! Seriously, two chapters and two reviews does not a happy fanfic author make. I've got a lot of great ideas for this fic and I'm probably going to write it regardless of whether or not people are reading it, but it'd make it a __lot__ easier to know that people are reading and enjoying what I'm writing, and especially that they want more. That's enough from me for now. On to le story._

Standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry attempted to get his dress robes straightened out. He considered charming them to do the work for him, but decided against it; the last time he'd done that he'd accidentally burned them.

"Almost done, Harry?" Ginny's voice came from the bathroom down the hall.

"Just about," Harry called back. He straightened the robes again and regarded himself. They still didn't look right.

It was a little less than a week after the capture and re-imprisonment of Lucius Malfoy and the Minister of Magic had decided to throw a party at the Ministry to award Harry the Order of Merlin, 2nd Class, for his role in Malfoy's capture. With some consternation, Harry had learned that none of the other members of the team were being decorated at the party.

"Just what I need," Harry muttered. "Another "all about me" party."

"What?" Ginny asked, as she walked into the room.

"Nothing," Harry said, and then he saw her. Ginny wore a close-fitting, fiery red dress that perfectly matched the color of her hair. The neckline dipped tantalizingly low and the dress stopped just after Ginny's left knee on the left and her right ankle on the right, creating a diagonal line across the front of her legs. Her hair was done up into an elegant bun and, for the first time in recent memory, she wore makeup.

"How do I look?" Ginny asked, striking a pose and smiling at Harry.

"Like the most beautiful person I've ever known," Harry said. Ginny blushed and, after realizing just how sappy he'd gotten, so did Harry.

"Here, let me help you with that," Ginny said. She walked over and, in one quick motion, reset Harry's robes perfectly.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Woman's touch, Harry," Ginny said. "Shall we?"

Harry offered his arm to Ginny, which she took. A moment later they both Apparated at the designated spot. The host waved Harry eagerly in, not even letting him say his name to verify that he was on the guest list. With Ginny still clinging to his arm, Harry made his way into the Ministry's Grand Function Hall.

The Grand Function Hall was at least twice the size of the ballroom at the Malfoy cabin and, if possible, even more ornately decorated. Gold and silver glinted from nearly every speck of visible wall. Harry suspected that the curtains themselves were made of gold. There were two raised platforms. On one was a podium and a table upon which no doubt sat Harry's new Order of Merlin, 2nd Class. On the other sat a goblin orchestra, playing an endless round of classical music that no one was really paying attention to.

The last time Harry had been in this hall had been a mere two days after the defeat of Voldemort, when he'd received just about every medal the Ministry could bestow (and a few they'd invented just for the occasion). Harry could recall wondering, during that ceremony, if perhaps leaving Voldemort alive would have been worth it to avoid such torturous public affairs. At least this time there was only one medal to be given out and not one hundred twenty-eight.

"Mr. Potter!" the unmistakable voice of Francis Early, Minister of Magic, rang out. Early hurried over and offered his hand to Harry, who accepted it. "I'm so glad you could make it. Then again, it wouldn't really have been a party without the guest of honor, now would it?"

Before Harry could reply, Early went on. "And Miss Weasley! You are every bit as gorgeous as the papers say!"

"Thank you, Minister," Ginny said. From her tone Harry could tell that she wondered if Early remembered that they'd met.

"We have a number of high profile guests tonight, Harry," Early said. "Do you mind if I call you Harry?"  
"It's my name, isn't it?" Harry asked.

Early cracked a huge smile that didn't reach his eyes and belted out two big laughs. "Witticism and bravery! The mark of the modern hero! Now come, there are some people I'd like you to meet."

Early was about to drag Harry off towards a group of unmistakably aristocratic wizards when Harry stopped him. "Minister, there's something I've been meaning to ask you about."

"Oh?" Early asked. As this wasn't something he'd planned on he deflated slightly.

"When we captured Mr. Malfoy, he kept muttering the same numbers," Harry said. "442. Do you have any idea why?"  
Both of Early's eyebrows raised. "442, eh?" he asked. "Well, I'll wager that he didn't know what he was saying. He is a lunatic, you know."

"But Minister, it was always those three numbers. Obviously it meant something to him. I think it may represent a person – "

Early grew sharp. "Mr. Potter, Lucius Malfoy is insane. Not to mention dangerous. He escaped from jail and now you have put him back there. That is all."

Harry bit his lip to keep from retorting. "Yes, Minister," he said. Early marched off, forgetting that he wanted to introduce Harry to the group of aristocrats.

"That was a bit odd," Ginny said.

"What was?" a voice from behind them spoke. When Harry and Ginny turned, Ginny squeaked and flew into the person's arms, giving them a massive hug.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said. A few feet behind her was a disgruntled looking Ron.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said. "Hello, Ron."

Ron gave nothing more than a curt nod. _Uh oh_, Harry thought.

"Been a bit busy, have you?" Ron asked. Although he sounded as though he were trying to make his voice jovial, it came out cold.

"Well, a bit," Harry said. "More so than lately. How was the vacation?"

"Uneventful," Ron said. He eyed his sister, who had finally pulled back from Hermione and was asking her the same basic questions. "Safe. Think I could have a word with you in private?"

_So that's it_. "Sure," Harry said. As the two walked out of earshot of the girls, Harry heard Hermione telling Ginny that Ron really wasn't all that upset.

"I'm upset with you, Harry," Ron said. "Why'd you go and bring my sister into danger like that?"

"I didn't bring your sister anywhere," Harry said. "She came along of her own free will and I'd have been risking a whole lot of danger trying to say no."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I expected as much," he said. "Still, I had to do the whole "angry big brother" thing. Least you didn't let her get hurt."

"She's the one who didn't let me get hurt," Harry said. Briefly, he related the story of the raid on the Malfoys' cabin. "She's a tough one, your sister," Harry said.

"That she is," Ron said. "Break her heart and I break your face."

Harry laughed and Ron finally smiled. "Deal," Harry said. The two friends walked back over to their dates.

"Am I to understand that this event is safe enough for Harry to take me to, Ron?" Ginny asked, lacing her voice with fake sweetness.

Now Ron blanched. The girls laughed. "Say, Ron, you never got this upset about _me_ going into danger," Hermione said. "And we used to go off doing dangerous things all the time."

"Er," Ron said, turning red. "Well...you're not my sister..."

"No, I'm only your girlfriend," Hermione said.

"Your one true love," Ginny said, clutching her heart melodramatically and laughing wickedly.

"Your soul mate," Harry offered, clapping Ron on the back. Harry, Ginny, and Hermione laughed, and once he was done sputtering, so did Ron.

"You guys are always so mean to me," Ron said. "Shall we get a table?"

When he didn't meet with any dissent, the four of them walked around the dance floor to an unoccupied table near the back. As people began to notice Harry, the usual stares began. Uncomfortably, Harry waved to the few who did him the courtesy of waving rather than just staring, and then put his head down and focused on getting seated.

"I hate these big parties," Harry said, once all four of them were seated. "I feel like a bloody zoo attraction..."

"Don't take it personally, Harry," Hermione said. "You're more than just a hero to most people. You're a walking legend."

Harry blushed. "I never asked to be anyone's legend," he said. Then he changed the subject. "So, tell us about the trip. Where'd you go, again?"

"St. Alpazne," Ron replied. "It's in Switzerland. They have every attraction you can think of – mountains for skiing, sunny fields for Quidditch."

"An extensive library," Hermione added, and Harry and Ginny both rolled their eyes.

"Tell me you didn't spend your vacation reading, Hermione," Harry said.

"Only when Ron went off to do something I didn't care for, like taking flying lessons," Hermione said.

"Who was giving flying lessons?" Harry asked.

"Roderick Plumpton," Ron said, his voice taking on a reverent tone.

"Didn't he play for the Tutshill Tornadoes?" Harry asked.

"And isn't he about one hundred and thirty?" Ginny asked.

"Yes and yes, but he's still the most amazing flier I've ever seen," Ron said. He hastily amended his statement. "Other than you, Harry."

Harry waved him off. "What else did you guys do?"

"Well, Fleur wanted to try a muggle sport called "sky-driving," so we tagged along for that," Ron said, trying to sound casual.

"Sky diving?" Harry asked, incredulous. "You went sky diving?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "You should have seen the look on his face when they told him that you don't use magic."

"What's "sky diving?" Ginny asked.

"It's something muggles do for fun," Harry explained. "They board aeroplanes, and once they're high enough over a certain area, they jump out."

"Oh, my," Ginny said. "How do they do it without magic?"

"They use devices called parachutes," Hermione explained.

"They're like umbrellas, Gin," Ron said. "Muggles jump out of their rickety aeroplanes several miles in the air and then use big, thin umbrellas to keep from splattering all over the ground."

Harry and Hermione shared a glance. "Well, I suppose that's one way of putting it," Hermione said, after a moment. "It's really a bit more technical than that."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "No doubt," she said.

A moment of casual conversation on the various other things Hermione and Ron (and Bill and Fleur, who were also expected to be coming to the party) later, the four of them became aware of a pair of figures approaching. After a moment of concentration, Harry recognized him, and stood to greet him.

"Neville!" he said. "Luna! How are you?"

Neville reached out a hand and shook Harry's, firmly and friendly. He wore a smile. "We're doing well," he said. "Just came to see if you'd set a new weight-lifting record trying to hold up all the medals tonight."

Harry blushed. Luna looked Harry up and down. "It's a good thing you decided not to wear all the medals from last time, Harry," she said, in her usual ethereal voice.

"Why is that?" Harry asked, knowing that the answer would undoubtedly make him smile.

"Because at least one of them was made from the skull of a dead Borgremesh and it could be highly explosive if you spilled any pumpkin juice on it," Luna said. "Not that I doubt your coordination."

Harry smiled. "How's your father?" he asked.

"Doing well," Luna said. "Especially since you gave him that interview a few months ago. Sales have never been so high."

"All the business with the Ministry is cleared up?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Luna said. "They exonerated him months ago. I'm afraid the story of it got buried behind the story of a man who photographed an actual Crumple-Horned Snorcack."

Harry nodded. "Well, that's more important," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

Luna, for her part, knew that Harry was poking fun at her, and in her usual way didn't mind even a little. "I know," she said.

"Care to join us?" Harry asked, and both Neville and Luna nodded, happily.

As Luna, Neville, and Harry went to sit down, Ron, examining the group, spoke up. "Bit of a reunion, this, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," Hermione said.

"Should we toast it?" Ginny asked.

"I can't imagine it being appropriate to do otherwise," Luna said, and all of them stared at her.

"Since when do you care what's appropriate?" Harry asked.

Luna stopped to consider. "Since what was appropriate started to matter," she said. "So, about five seconds ago."

They all laughed again, and all six of them raised their glasses. When they all looked to Harry, he grudgingly cleared his throat. "To the DA," he said.

"The DA," his friends echoed. Following the clinking of glasses they all drank.

"Good stuff," Neville said.

"I'm sure Minister Early spared no expenses," Harry said, a bit more viciously than he'd intended.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Neville asked.

Harry had visually scanned the crowd and found Minister Early, who was deep in conversation with a tall man Harry didn't recognize. "I'm sure it's nothing," he said. "When we caught Malfoy, he kept muttering the same three numbers over and over. When I brought it up to Minister Early, he brushed me off. Angrily."

"That's odd," Hermione said. "And here we thought this whole thing was to mollify you into liking him."

Harry frowned. "I really wish I could say that _wasn't_ the point of all this," he said. Something clicked inside his head. "And you know – it won't be."

A few minutes later, Minister Early climbed up onto the platform and signaled the orchestra to stop playing. As they quieted, so did all the guests. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming," Early said, flashing a smile towards the press table that resulted in a round of flashbulbs going off. "We're here tonight to recognize, not for the first time, the bravery and selflessness of one of our own – a most exceptional young man whose constant dedication to the welfare of the wizarding world has delivered us from evil on several occasions.

"Mr. Harry Potter, please come to the podium."

Minister Early turned and looked directly at Harry (despite the fact that Harry had thought the Minister didn't know where he was sitting). "Time for torture," he whispered, and, smoothing his dress robes one last time, rose form his seat.

Harry walked quickly towards the platform, once again keeping his head down. As he passed, a slow, low applause started. When Harry got up onto the platform to stand next to Minister Early, Early gestured for the crowd to quiet down.

"Mr. Potter, your most recent feat, in which you captured the dangerous escaped convict Lucius Malfoy, is just one more example of your bravery and your seemingly never-ceasing service to the wizarding world. While I suppose this is just one more medal, then, the meaning behind it remains clear. We thank you, Mr. Potter.

"Mr. Harry James Potter, I hereby award you the Order of Merin, 2nd Class."

Early reached over and pinned the medal to the front of Harry's dress robes. This time, the applause was louder. Harry could hear his friends' voices amongst those assembled. He cleared his throat, wondering if he really had the guts to do what he had decided he wanted to do.

"Thank you, Minister," Harry said, before Early could go on. Once again, Harry saw Early deflate as Harry deviated from Early's plans. "But I think there are a number of other people who ought to be mentioned tonight. Were it not for the bravery of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ginevra Weasley, Eric Quigen, Warren Upsrike, Joshua Isaacs, and the ultimate sacrifice of Boris Ruble, Lucius Malfoy would not be in prison tonight, and our homes would still be unsafe. The six of them deserve this medal as much as I do. Hell, Ruble deserves it a whole lot more.

"That said, I think this medal ought to be for all seven of us."

Early stood, gaping, looking at Harry. In the back of the room, Harry heard five people, his truest friends in the world, start clapping. Soon the rest of the audience recovered from their own shock enough to join in. The applause soared, becoming raucous, as people actually cheered for what Harry had to say and not simply for who he was.

Early recovered quickly. "The selflessness of the hero!" he shouted. "Ladies and gentleman, I give you Mr. Harry Potter, the man of our times!"

Harry bowed to the audience and disembarked from the platform, hurrying back to his table before the throngs of people could get to him. One did, a short woman with dark hair, who led two little boys behind her.

"Mr. Potter?" she asked. There were tears in her eyes.

"Uh, yes?" Harry said, politely.

"My name is Amanda Ruble, and I just wanted to say that that was...a lot more than I could have expected."

Mollified, Harry tried to look as warm and consoling as possible. "Mrs. Ruble, your husband was a brave man," Harry said. "He died doing what was right."

"I'm sure he'd take great comfort in hearing you say that," Amanda Ruble replied. Then she laughed. "He probably wouldn't have admitted it, but..."

Harry smiled. "Are these your sons?" he asked.

"Yes," Amanda replied. "Joseph, Marcus, say hello to Harry Potter."

The two boys mumbled a hello, too overwhelmed to look Harry in the eye. Harry bent over. "You're father was a brave, brave man," Harry said. "Never forget that, okay?"

"We won't, Mr. Potter," the two boys chorused.

"We'll leave you to the party, then, Mr. Potter," Amanda Ruble said, eying the growing number of people gathering behind them.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Mrs. Ruble," Harry said, as they were parted by the crowd.

He thought he heard a thank you, but it was lost in the jumble of voices. The press had set upon him.

"Mr. Potter, can you confirm that Draco Malfoy was the source of the tip that led you to Lucius Malfoy's hideout?"

"Shouldn't you be asking him that?" Harry asked.

"Is it true that you killed an eighteen foot snake without the use of your eyes?"

"I hardly killed it alone..." Harry said. The reporters all scribbled furiously.

"If Mr. Potter has a statement to make, he'll find you," Ginny sidled up next to Harry and took his arm in a manner much more protective than last time. As a result of her arrival, the reporters turned on her.

"Miss Weasley, is it true that you and Mr. Potter are planning marriage?"

"Harry and I are quite happy as we are," Ginny said. "Now really, that's enough questions."

"Miss Weasley, is it true that you are in fact pregnant with Mr. Potter's child?"

Ginny colored. She opened her mouth to retort, but Luna, swooping in from the outskirts of the crowd, cut her off. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, mimicking Minister Early's words in such a way as to be completely different from what he'd said. "If you'll all give me your attention, I can tell you _everything_ you'd want to know about Harry Potter."

Instantly, all the reporters turned to Luna, allowing Harry and Ginny (who was still fuming profusely) to make an escape back to their table. As they were walking briskly away, they heard Luna informing the reporters about Harry's famous, but underplayed friendship with the only domesticated Crumple-Horned Snorcack known to exist.

Harry and Ginny sat down again, while Neville, Hermione, and Ron watched Luna working the reporters into a tizzy. "It'll take five minutes before they realize she's just feeding them rubbish," Neville said. He glowed as he watched Luna talk.

Harry nudged him. "There's something there, isn't there?" he asked.

"Huh?" Neville asked. Harry nodded towards Luna and Neville blushed. "Yeah, I suppose there is," he admitted. Hermione, Ginny, and even Ron leaned in, interested. "Still, getting into a relationship with Luna Lovegood isn't exactly easy."

"Why's that?" Harry asked. He'd never met anyone quite so warm and positive as Luna. In fact, if it weren't for how much he was in love with Ginny...

"Well, she's pretty trusting, until you start getting too close," Neville said. "She values our friendship furiously and whenever I can get her talk about it she says she doesn't want to damage it. I think there's something else, going on there, though."

"Yeah?" Harry said, watching as one reporter faltered, checked her notes, and then asked Luna a question.

"Yeah," Neville said. "I'd never seen her scared until the first time I asked her out on a date."

"You asked her out on a date?" Hermione asked.

"And we weren't informed?" Ginny added.

"Good-o, mate!" Ron said.

"She said no," Neville said, not even the faintest trace of rancor in voice. Ron's face fell a bit. "We wound up going out that night anyway. I think she was more comfortable not calling it a date."

"That's too bad," Harry said.

"Oh, not really," Neville said. "I still enjoy her company, and I can wait a while for her to come around. And even if she doesn't - well, it's still nice to have friends, you know?"

Not for the first time, Harry was overcome with affection for both Luna and Neville, who were just about the only people who could claim to be bigger outsiders than he was at Hogwarts. "Yes, it is, Neville," Harry said. They smiled in mutual understanding. "It certainly is."

After another hour or so of mingling, during which time Harry was congratulated by Kingsley Shacklebolt and the other members of the team (minus Upsrike, who was still at St. Mungo's, awaiting a Mandrake Drought to restore him from petrification) the guests started to file out, and Harry so it as his first opportunity to escape the oppressive social function. As he and Ginny moved towards the exit, Minister Early approached him one last time.

"I never got the chance to congratulate you properly on that speech, Mr. Potter," Early said, offering yet another handshake to Harry.

"I'd hardly call it a speech, Minister," Harry replied.

"Well, you're modest," Early said, and Harry got the distinct impression that Early had almost said "naive."

"Thanks again, Minister," Harry said. He went to move past Early.

"Uh, Harry," Early said, and Harry stopped. "You'll put that whole 442 thing behind you now, yes?"

Harry's gaze focused sharply on the Minister of Magic. He considered his next words carefully. "Yes, of course, Minister," he said. "So long as the bad guys are in jail, I'll be happy."

Early's smile was a bit genuine for once. "That's good, Harry," he said. "We wouldn't want you working yourself too hard between actual emergencies, would we?" he laughed.

"Certainly not," Harry said. He nodded to the Minister and, with Ginny still attached to his arm, walked off through the exit.

When they'd gotten safely out of earshot of the Minister of Magic, Ginny let go of Harry's arm and faced him. "He was acting downright strange," she said.

"Yes, he was," Harry said. "And I'd rather like to know why."


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N**: The ironic thing is that I started this chapter before finishing the last one. Writer's block and the necessity of spending an ungodly number of hours working (I hate the real world) have prevented me from producing this chapter as quickly as I would have otherwise. Oh well. Enjoy._

Standing, for the first time, in front of the imposing, two story high gates of Azkaban prison, Harry Potter couldn't help but shiver. Even outside the dark fortress' walls, he could feel the beginnings of the affects of the Dementors within. Harry kept a firm grip on his wand.

After a moment of standing and waiting (which was the procedure, as Harry had been briefed by a witch at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement), the doors swung slowly open, and Harry was allowed to enter.

A frazzled wizard in robes that bore Azkaban's insignia (which, until then, Harry had never seen) greeted him. "Hello, Mr. Potter," he said. "My name is Robert Orvil. Do come in."

Harry followed Robert Orvil inside the doors, which were already swinging shut. The inside of Azkaban prison was even damper and more forbidding than the outside. It's black stone walls seemed to run with an unknown, clear liquid, as the shadows of the torchlights danced across the walls, creating fleeting images of such things as beheadings and torture devices that stayed only long enough to convince Harry they were there.

"Follow me, please," Orvil said. Harry followed him towards the center of the floor, and for the first time, Harry realized that there were no Dementors floating around – nor were there any cells on the first floor. "Watch your step here."

As Orvil entered the center ring, Harry saw the ceiling above him open. Harry stepped quickly after him and the two men began to float upward, slowly.

"We don't get many visitors," Orvil said, "Then again, we're not here a lot ourselves. This is my first day on the job in a month."

"Rotation, I know," Harry said. "I can't even imagine spending a whole day here."

"Most people can't," Orvil said. "In a creepy way, you almost get used to it after a while. And it pays well enough, for only one day per month of work."

"How far up do we have to go?" Harry asked. He looked up and saw the ceiling split again, and then looked below as the floor closed itself up after their passing.

"Only to the fourth floor," Orvil said. "The "elevator" is keyed into my insignia. Only someone wearing one can make the floors move or control the motion of the air."

"So how'd Lucius Malfoy manage to get down four stories?" Harry asked.

"Your guess is as good as ours," Orvil replied. "We've had men trying to figure it out around the clock. Ever since Sirius Black managed to escape, and all those Death Eaters managed mass breakouts during the war, we thought this place was finally perfect."

"I guess you were wrong," Harry said.

Orvil didn't look happy. "I guess we were," he said.

Harry looked around. "Where are the Dementors?" he asked. "I can feel them, but I don't see them anywhere."

Orvil looked even less happy. "You'll see them soon enough," he said. "Enjoy the moment. They hate the elevator for some reason, so they usually hide from it. Here we are – fourth floor."

He stepped forward onto the stone floor and Harry followed suit. The floor behind them closed up, leaving them in a long, dimly lit passageway with cells on either side.

"This way," Orvil said, leading Harry down the corridor. They rounded a corner and, a second later, Harry caught sight of a Dementor.

The Dementor floated in place, its eerie, torn black robes fluttering about around it, its hood pulled up to obscure its horrible face. Upon sensing Harry's nearness, the Dementor attempted to surge forward, but stopped part of the way and was yanked back towards the end of the corridor. Upon closer examination, Harry could see a white, glowing chord wrapped around its neck that was tied to similarly colored white bar running from the floor into the ceiling. The Dementor hissed at Harry.

"They're all like that now," Orvil explained, as they turned away from the imprisoned Dementor. "Ministry doesn't trust 'em anymore."

"I wonder why," Harry said, sarcastically.

"Humor," Orvil said, his voice sounding empty. "We don't get much of that around here. This is the one."

He pointed towards a cell door. Harry approached it tentatively, resting his hands against the bars.

"Would you like some privacy...?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Harry said, and Orvil ducked back around the corner. "Mr. Malfoy?"

The figure in the cell, huddled in the back corner like many of the others Harry had passed on his way through level four, shivered slightly. "My name," it croaked, and Harry could barely recognize Lucius Malfoy's voice. "I...have a name..."

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you do," Harry said. "So do I. I'm Harry Potter. I have a couple of questions to ask you."

Mr. Malfoy looked up at Harry. Though Harry had thought the former Death Eater had looked bad in the cabin north of Leeds, it was nothing to how he looked in his cell in Azkaban. "Harry Potter?" he asked, as though he wasn't completely sure who that was. Or that it was a name. "Why...questions?"

Rather than responding to Malfoy's garbled language, Harry got to the point. "Mr. Malfoy – why did you escape from Azkaban?"

"Escape?" Malfoy asked. He reached up and scraped a bit of dirt off the front of his face. "Escape?"

"Yes, escape," Harry said. "To the outside."

"Outside?" Malfoy repeated. Suddenly his face brightened, as though the thought cheered him up, but almost instantaneously, the smile was gone. "No outside. No name. No Harry Potter."

They were moving in the wrong direction and Harry wasn't sure how to steer them in the right one. "I _am_ Harry Potter, and you _are_ Lucius Malfoy," Harry said, taking the time to enunciate every syllable of both names.

"I...am?" Malfoy asked. He scratched another bit of dirt from his face, but accidentally tore away a bit of his pale, ruined skin. He didn't seem to notice or express any pain.

"Yes, you are," Harry said. He decided to try a different track. "If I'm Harry Potter and you're Lucius Malfoy – who is 442?"

Malfoy's eyes widened at the mention of the number. "442!" he yelled, pointing wildly out of the cell. "442! He'll destroy it all! 442! 442!"

Harry followed the direction Malfoy was pointing in and saw the numbers "442" engraved on the cell door across from Malfoy's. The light went on in Harry's head. "He's 442," he said to himself, but Malfoy heard him.

"The destructor," he muttered, pickng at the some, self-inflicted cut on his face, and curling up again in a ball in the corner of his cell.

Leaving the pathetic shell that had once been Lucius Malfoy behind, Harry crossed the corridor and peered into cell 442. "Hello?" he said. "Is there anyone in here?"

The man that stood by the window in the cell had obviously been there a long, long time; he was covered in dirt, dust, and grime the same as the cell around him, and so blended in with it almost perfectly. Extremely slowly, his head turned to regard Harry, and Harry felt a cold shiver. The man's eyes were almost completely black, and so sunken was his face that he appeared to have great purple circles enclosing his eyes. He also didn't seem to have any eyelids, because he didn't blink.

"What is your name?" Harry asked.

The man slowly cocked his head to one side, no other part of his body moving. "Anderson," he said.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked.

"Death," he said.

"Whose death?" Harry asked, allowing his excitement to get the better of him. "Did you kill someone? Are you planning on killing someone?"

"Death."

"What?" Harry asked, confused. "I don't understand."

The man's head turned slowly back to gaze out the window, the rest of his body still not moving. Harry asked him several more questions, but he showed no sign of hearing him.

Eventually, Harry gave up and walked back around the corner to where Orvil was standing, waiting for him. "Did you get what you were looking for?" he asked.

"Who is the man in cell 442?" Harry asked.

"442?" Orvil asked, considering. "Let's see...his name is William Marsh. He's a mass murderer."

Harry frowned. "I see," was all he'd say.

"Are you ready to go?" Orvil asked.

"I think so, yes," Harry said. "Thank you for your help."

Harry Apparated just outside the wards on the Burrow, and quickly pushed the gate open. The old Weasley house looked much the same as it always did – marvelously eccentric and mildly chaotic. Mrs. Weasley was in the garden, tossing gnomes, when she spotted Harry. "Harry, dear!" she cried. "Welcome!"

She rushed over to hug him. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, maintaining his oxygen flow with some difficulty as she crushed him in a hug.

"We see so little of you these days," Mrs. Weasley said. "Of course, Ginny sees you, but then, she seems to spend more nights at your house than ours..."

Before that conversation could really get started (it was going to have to happen, but for now Harry had other things on his mind) Harry derailed Mrs. Weasley's train of thought. "Is Hermione here?" he asked.

"Why, yes," Mrs. Weasley said. She gestured to her throat and her voice was magically amplified. "Hermione!" she called.

A moment later, the mousy-haired young woman came bounding through the front door. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Weasley...Harry!" she said, catching sight of him.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said. "Could I have a word with you...?"

"Sure, of course," Hermione replied. Harry followed her back into the house as Mrs. Weasley, smiling and now humming cheerfully, returned to her de-gnoming.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "I need you to get a look at Azkaban's records," he said.

"What?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"442 is the cell across from Lucius Malfoy's in Azkaban," Harry said. "I talked to him. He says his name is Anderson, but the guards say his name is William Marsh. I need to know who is telling the truth."

"Do you have any reason to doubt what the guards told you?" Hermione asked, clearly still bewildered.

"A bad feeling and a lifelong distrust of authority figures?" Harry suggested. "Please, Hermione. I'd do this myself but I wouldn't know where to begin to look for prison records in the Ministry archives."

"And, what, I would?" Hermione asked. "Because of my expertise in judicial filing systems?"

"No," Harry said. "Because...well, they're books, Hermione, and that's your department."

Hermione tried to sound angry. "My department, huh?"

"Don't try that on me, it won't work," Harry said. "I need your help, you know it, and you've already made up your mind to help. You're just trying to talk yourself out of it because you know it's against the rules. But you're going to do it anyway, so why don't we just cut to the part where we figure out just what's going on?"

Hermione blanched. "You're...different," she said.

"What in the world are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"You're...more forceful," Hermione said, not without some admiration. "You've gone and become a leader."

Harry blushed. He also felt like he shrank an inch or two. "I'm no one's leader," he said. "I just want to find out what they're up to over there, is all. Are you coming, or not?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Oh, why not," she said.

The two of them left the Burrow (bidding a hasty farewell to Mrs. Weasley) and, as soon as they were past the wards, Disapparated.

A moment later they reappeared inside the Ministry of Magic, as ever a bustling center of activity. As wizards surged around Harry and Hermione, all intent on some destination, Harry turned to Hermione, a sheepish look on his face.

"Er...you wouldn't happen to know where they keep that paperwork, do you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I ought to have expected as much," she said, once more trying to sound angry. "Come on. There's a directory over here."

The two walked over to the map on the wall, which was surprisingly normal.

"Seems that all of the files on Azkaban are stored here, near the Improper Use of Magic Office," Hermione said, peering closely to the map.

"Good," Harry said, following Hermione's gaze. "That means there shouldn't be more than one or two people there. I think we can charm our way past them."

"You want to put spells on them?" Hermione asked, growing nervous.

Harry smiled. "Not that kind of charm," he said. He brushed aside his hair, indicating his scar.

Hermione visibly relaxed. "Oh, good," she said, and left it at that. They boarded a lift and, in short order, were standing outside a door marked with the same insignia Harry had seen Robert Orvill wearing, beneath a single, ominous word: "Corrections."

Steeling himself, Harry pushed open the door. Instead of a large storage room, Harry and Hermione entered a small office. A young wizard sat slouched in a chair behind his desk, which easily took up half the space in the office. Other than his desk, the office contained several pictures of people Harry could only guess were his family and a single, solitary filing cabinet.

"Uh, hello?" Harry said.

The wizard started upright. "Wassat?" he said, glancing around sleepily. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," Harry said. "We're here to take a look at some of the records of inmates of Azkaban."

"Oh, are you?" the wizard said, annoyed. He rubbed a bit of sleep-dust out of his eyes. "And I suppose you're not planning on giving me any clearance first?"

Harry smiled wryly and, once again, pushed his hair aside. As the young wizard's eyes swept up to see Harry's scar, they grew wide. "Mr. Potter?" he asked, and Harry nodded. "Oh! Of course you can!"

The wizard jumped up, nearly pitching his chair over backwards, and rushed over to the filing cabinet. "Uh, prisoner records, you wanted?" he asked. Harry nodded again. "What timeframe?"

"The last twenty years," Hermione said.

The wizard nodded. He pulled out his wand and tapped the filing cabinet, muttering something Harry couldn't quite hear. The cabinet sprung open and the young wizard removed a massive folder full of pieces of paper of various sizes. "Here it is," he said. "You can use my office for privacy, if you'd like." When Harry nodded in affirmation, the young wizard practically bolted for the door.

As Harry grinned in amusement at the kinds of power his fame had brought him, Hermione was already getting to work. She'd opened the folder, revealing several hundred smaller folders. Pulling out her wand, Hermione muttered a sorting spell. "We can just sit back and wait for it to find something that matches," she said.

Harry took a seat next to her. He was barely sitting when a folder pulled itself out from the rest, a ball of red and blue light hovering over it.

"Red and blue?" he asked. "What's that mean?"

"It means that it found the first and second criteria of the search in a single place," Hermione said. She snatched the folder out of the air. "This'll be what we're looking for."

She opened the folder. There wasn't much inside – just a few official-looking Ministry documents and a single newspaper clipping. Harry reached for the clipping, unfolded it, and read:

EIGHT DEAD IN LATEST DEATH EATER ATTACK

An attack in Hogsmeade this weekend resulted in the deaths of eight people, according to members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who were on hand to clean up the mess. Several other people were injured and a significant amount of property was damaged in the attack.

Early Monday morning, a single Death Eater, one William Marsh, attacked a group of people in Hogsmeade village, a little after noon. Using a powerful Exploding Charm, Marsh destroyed Nanite's Cafe and caused significant damage to the surrounding buildings.

Killed in the attack were Joanna York, Justin Aaronson, Cecelia Overmyer, Richard Anderson, Horace Bilby, Rachel Bilby, Earl Louse, and Winston Tunney.

"Didn't even rate the front page," Hermione muttered.

"Anderson," Harry said.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"The man in the cell, the man whose supposed to be William Marsh," Harry said. "He told me his name was Anderson."

"And what?" Hermione asked. "You believe him?"

"You weren't there," Harry said. He shivered. "It's...impossible to lie in that place."

"So how'd the guards manage it?" Hermione asked.

"If they don't know he isn't William Marsh, they wouldn't be lying, would they?" Harry said.

Hermione frowned. Instead of answering, she picked up the remaining papers in the folder. She leafed through them quickly. "Nothing too interesting here," she said. "Court transcripts, commitment papers. He pleaded guilty and went straight to Azkaban."

"All of them for William Marsh?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. "He signed the confession as such. Here it is."

Hermione handed Harry one of the papers, upon which was a handwritten first-person description of the crime, followed by a signature, reading "William Marsh."

"Harry, I think we ought to let this go," Hermione said, gently. "Some old murderer in Azkaban's gone crazy and thinks he's one of his victims. That's not so outlandish."

"I just can't shake the feeling that there's something else going on here," Harry said. Looking over the court transcript, his burrow furrowed. "Look here. The prosecution had one witness lined up, but she was dismissed before the trial."

"So? He pleaded guilty," Hermione said. "There wasn't a need for witnesses."

"No, but she was dismissed _before_ his guilty plea was entered," Harry said, reading from the entry/exit log. "They booted her out of the court room before she could say anything – and before he could."

Now Hermione's brow furrowed. "Let me see that," she said. She took the paper from Harry and read it over. "Wilma Louse," she read. "Sister of one of the victims."

"Worth taking a look," Harry said.

A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione Apparated outside a small cottage on the edge of a wizarding village in Wales. Getting straight to the point, Harry pushed open the short gate and walked confidently up to the door, Hermione following. Harry knocked, and a second later the door opened.

"Hello?" The woman standing behind the door was perhaps fifty years old.

"Hell, Ms. Louse," Harry said. "We're...uh, we're with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. My name is Potter, and this is my partner, Granger. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course," Wilma Louse said, parting her door so that Harry and Hermione, whose eyebrows had both raised at Harry's words, could enter.

"Thank you, Ms. Louse," Harry said.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, please," Hermione said.

Louse led Harry and Hermione into her sitting room, motioning toward the couch. Harry and Hermione sat down as Louse pulled a chair over and sat facing them.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

"Ms. Louse, we're here about the death of your brother, Earl," Harry said.

Louse straightened up. "That was years ago," she said.

"We're reopening the investigation," Hermione said.

Louse nodded, obviously steeling herself. "Ask," she said.

Harry nodded too. Strong woman. "Ms. Louse, describe to us what happened the day your brother died."

"It started out as an ordinary day, really," Louse said. "Earl and I were meeting Horace and Rachel Bilby in Hogsmeade. We were at Nanite's Cafe, sitting at a table, just talking. The explosion came from the coffee bar in the back...the only reason I survived is because I was sitting farthest away and the table was knocked on top of me...it covered me, when the ceiling fell..."

A single tear rolled down Louse's cheek, which she wiped away quickly, sniffling. "They dug me out about ten minutes later. I know it was ten minutes because they told me it was; it could have been years for all I knew. They...they told me Earl and Rachel and Horace were all dead."

"Tell us about the trial," Harry asked.

"That's always confused me," Losue admitted, laughing shortly and mirthlessly. "I was summoned by the prosecution, but when I arrived in the courtroom and went to sit down, they came up to me, told me I wasn't needed, and more or less hustled me out of the courtroom. It's ironic, really."

"Why is it ironic?" Harry asked.

"I wasn't going to be able to do much for them," Louse explained. "It all happened so fast – I didn't really see what happened, or who had done it." A moment later, a sound from the kitchen indicated that the tea was ready, and Wilma Louse excused herself to get it.

"If she didn't have any information, why'd they call her to testify?" Harry asked.

"That's not the question," Hermione said. "The question is, if she didn't have any information, why'd they dismiss her in such a hurry? What did they have to hide?"

Harry regarded Hermione out of the corner of his eye. "Sounds like you're coming around to my way of thinking," Harry said.

Hermione chose her words carefully. "I'm...curious," she said. "You were right, there's something not right about all this."

Louse walked back into the room, depositing the steaming cups of tea on the table in front of Harry and Hermione, then sat down again herself. Hermione picked up the cup and sipped the tea, but Harry ignored his.

"Ms. Louse, is there anything else you can remember about the trial?"

"Not really," Louse said. "I left, and the next day I got a letter saying they'd convicted Willy Marsh and sent him to Azkaban, and that was that. I suppose it isn't too surprising. Willy always was a little...off."

"Willy? You knew William Marsh?" Harry asked.

"Why, yes," Wilma Louse replied. "We went to Hogwarts together. To think, I actually sat in class with the man who would kill my brother..."

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. Harry dug out the commitment papers from his pocket until he found the one with the picture of the prisoner in cell 442. "And this is William Marsh?" Harry asked, handing Louse the photograph.

"Oh, no" she said. "No, it isn't. Willy had green eyes, not black, and he wasn't so tall."

"Do you know this man?" Harry asked.

"Not by name," Louse said. "I...yes, he's the one. He was in Nanite's the day of the explosion. I never could figure how he survived."

"Why is that?" Harry prodded.

"He was at the bar when it exploded," she said. "I saw him at the trial...I figured he was there to testify. That's probably why they asked me to leave. They already had all the testimony they needed to convict Willy Marsh."

Hermione was about to open her mouth and tell Wilma Louse how the justice system really works when Harry silenced her with a look. "One last time, for clarity's sake – you're sure that the man in the picture isn't William Marsh?"

"Quite sure," Wilma Louse said.

"Well, that's all we need to know," Harry said, standing. Hermione stood as well. "Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Louse."

Harry extended a hand and Louse shook it. "I'm glad I could help."


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. The summer is starting to wrap up and I'll be heading back to school soon. There's no telling if I'll be able to continue my work on this story while I'm there. Here's hoping. Also, I apologize for how...succinct...this chapter may seem. It's more of a bridge from one end of the story into the other and wasn't exactly a joy to write. Oh, well. Hopefully you enjoy reading it._

When Harry Apparated home that afternoon, he found Ginny waiting for him in the living room at 12 Grimmauld Place. "Where've you been all day?" she asked, jumping up so quickly her chair almost tipped over.

Harry scratched his head. There was no quick and simple way to explain his activities that day. "Investigating a mystery," he said.

"First I wake up and you're not here," Ginny said, and Harry cringed. "Then, around midday, owls start pouring in from the Ministry of Magic, requesting your presence. Then they started demanding it. I had to send one back with a note that you weren't here."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry said. He walked across the room and wrapped his arms around her, which she let him do. Harry took that to be a good sign. "I shouldn't have just left this morning. But there were a few things I had to look into."

Harry sat Ginny down, then took up a seat next to her and proceeded to fill her in on everything he, and eventually Hermione, had done over the course of the day. "Well, that's why they're so peeved at you," Ginny said.

"Beg pardon?" Harry asked.

"The Ministry," she said. "If they're covering something up and you're onto it, they'd be pretty anxious to keep you away from the truth, wouldn't they?"

"Yeah, they would," Harry said. "There's still a lot we don't know, though. We know pretty well that the man in cell 442 isn't William Marsh, he's Richard Anderson. We can assume that the Ministry knows it too, since they rushed Wilma Louse out of the courtroom before she could point it out. But _why_..."

"Hang on," Ginny said, gripping Harry's hand. "We don't know that the man in cell 442 is Richard Anderson. Granted, we know he _isn't_ William Marsh, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he is who he says he is."

"That's true," Harry said, considering. "We need to find someone who knew Richard Anderson."

Ginny beamed at Harry. "Go on, tell me I'm smart," she said, her eyes twinkling.

Harry grinned slyly and leaned in towards her. "You're brilliant," he said. "Absolutely, completely, totally brilliant." His words only stopped as their lips met.

A minute or two later, when the need for oxygen reasserted itself, the two broke apart.

"Mmm," Ginny said, her eyes still closed. "That never gets old."

"It better not," Harry said, and they both laughed.

"So...how do we find out who he really is?" Ginny asked.

Harry was puzzled for a second. "Huh? Oh, him," he said. "I haven't the faintest idea."

Just then, an owl swooped into the room. Harry was startled; Ginny looked annoyed.

"Another owl," she muttered, rising to remove the letter from its leg. As soon as the letter was gone, the owl flew through the door and, presumably, up the chimney. Ginny read the letter and, a moment later, handed it to Harry. Harry read the letter.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Your presence at the Ministry of Magic is personally requested by the Minister of Magic.

Signed,

Francis Early, Minister of Magic

"It's a bit curt," Ginny said.

"No doubt he's a little upset with me," Harry said. "Prat."

Ginny smiled. "You have to be the only person I know who can just shrug off the anger of the Minister of Magic like it's nothing."

"Not the only one," Harry said. "Just the only one in the room right now. Anyway, I better go."

"Do you want me to come along?" Ginny asked.

"No, I'll go alone," Harry said, and she deflated. "There's no sense in dragging you into this."

"If you're in it, then so am I," Ginny said, firmly. "If I've told you once I've told you a million times. From now on, where you go, I go."

Harry smiled. Ginny was the only person from whom that kind of devotion was welcome. "I know," he said. "But there's no need for him to get angry at you, too."

Ginny's smile slipped. "Harry, that's not the point," she said.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder off the mantle, he tossed it into the fireplace and jumped into the flames.

A pair of Aurors met Harry as he stepped out of the flames in the Ministry of Magic. Harry recognized one of them right away.

"Hello, Quigen," Harry said.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Quigen replied. "We've been asked to bring you up to the Minister of Magic's office."

"Now I need an armed escort?" Harry asked.

Quigen didn't quite smile. "The Minster wanted to make sure you found your way to his office quickly and without detour," Quigen said.

"So you're here to help me find my way?" Harry asked.

"Yes, sir," Quigen said, wryly. "Purely for your benefit. If you'll follow us."

Quigen and the other Auror, who Harry didn't know, began to walk toward the lift. Harry followed and, subtly, the other Auror slowed and allowed Harry to pass, so that Quigen led Harry and the other kept an eye on him from behind. As they walked, Harry kept one hand on his wand – just in case.

When they arrived at Early's office, Quigen knocked. The door swung open and Quigen gestured for Harry to enter. As he did so, Quigen shut the door without entering himself. Looking around, Harry saw Hermione standing in front of Minister Early's desk, looking a bit nervous. Early himself was seated, twirling a brass paper weight around.

"Please, Mr. Potter, do join us," he said. "And you may sit, Ms. Granger."

Harry crossed the room and sat down in front of Early's desk, shooting an appraising look at Hermione. She didn't return his gaze.

"Mr. Potter, I believe I asked you to leave the William Marsh affair alone," Early started.

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"And I'm informed that you were poking around in his file from Azkaban earlier today," Early said. The brass paperweight continued to twirl.

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

The paperweight continued to twirl. "Then would you care to explain your behavior?" Early asked.

"No, sir," Harry said.

The paperweight stopped twirling abruptly. "Excuse me?" Early asked. All friendly pretenses were gone from his demeanor.

"I said, no, sir," Harry said. "I'm just curious about Mr. Marsh. Did you know he isn't Mr. Marsh?"

Early sputtered. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"The man in cell 442 is not William Marsh," Harry said. "His name is Richard Anderson, or so I believe."

Early's face darkened. "And you know that how?" he asked, coldly. Instead of twirling the paperweight Early was now squeezing it.

"An eyewitness," Harry said. "Hermione and I found someone who can tell that the man who was convicted of attack in Hogsmeade was not William Marsh. Pretty soon we'll be able to find someone who can prove that the man in cell 442 is Richard Anderson. Maybe some family, or something."

Early regarded Harry with a stare Harry couldn't read. Then, he set down the paperweight on the desk and pushed back slightly. "He didn't have any family," Early said, in a measured tone. "He was...alone."

Hermione finally turned to look at Harry, whose eyebrows both raised. "So you knew," Harry said.

"Yes," Early said. "Well, I didn't until you brought it up at the event. I did some checking. What I'm about to tell you is highly classified."

Harry and Hermione both nodded.

"Richard Anderson was responsible for the attack at Nanite's Cafe in Hogsmeade. He killed all those people, including William Marsh."

"Why cover it up?" Harry asked.

"Richard Anderson was...is...an American," Early explained. "The whole incident occurred right in the middle of the Dark Lord's first rise to power. It was decided to cover up the incident to preserve our relationship with the Americans."

"So rather than blame an American for the attack and damage international relations in the middle of a war," Hermione said. "You found a patsy."

Early nodded. "William Marsh had no family. No friends. Only a few school acquaintances. No one who would care."

"That's cold," Harry said.

"That's the real world," Early said.

"You don't need to lecture me about the real world, Minister," Harry said.

Early started to retort, but bit his tongue. "Of course not," he said. He pushed back his chair and stood. "I trust that this satisfies your curiosity, Mr. Potter?"

Harry and Hermione stood as well. "Yes, sir," Harry said. "For now."

Early quite obviously didn't like that response. "Well, that's all, then," Early said. As Harry and Hermione turned to leave, Early shot one last remark at them. "And don't go snooping around where you don't belong anymore!"

Harry led the way out of Early's office. Hermione shut the door behind them. As Harry turned to her, any beginnings of a smile vanished as he saw the look on her face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"He's still lying," Hermione said. "Richard Anderson does have a family. A daughter."

"He does?" Harry asked, incredulous. "How do you know?"

"I read the papers," Hermione said. "A girl named Cailin Anderson just graduated from the American Wizard's Academy. She's an orphan whose parents died in a Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade during Voldemort's first rise to power."

"She's in the papers?" Harry asked.

"Only about twenty people graduate from the AWA every year," Hermione explained. "They publish all the names and some short bios in the papers."

"Oh," Harry said.

"I had just sent her a letter when I got the owl to come to the Ministry," Hermione said. "I'll let you know if she writes back."

"Thanks," Harry said.

When Harry arrived home, Ginny was waiting for him. She even opened the door this time. As soon as he saw her face, alarm bells started ringing in Harry's head.

"Don't ever brush me off like that again," she said, in a tone that was sickly-sweet it couldn't be real.

"Uh...I'm sorry?" Harry said.

"Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be," Ginny said, still sickly-sweet.

"Er...what does that mean?" Harry asked.

"Let's just say it's going to be a long, long time before I sleep here again," she said. Before Harry could protest, Ginny Disapparated.

Harry scratched the back of his head. "That could have gone better," he said, to no one in particular.

"Master Harry," Kreacher's voice came from the kitchen.

"What is it, Kreacher?" Harry called back.

"What were you desiring to have for dinner, Master Harry?" Kreacher yelled. "And should we expect Mistress Ginny?"

"Whatever you have, Kreacher," Harry said. "And it's just me tonight."

"Yes, sir," Kreacher said.

"Just me for a while, looks like," Harry muttered.

"What was that, sir?" Kreacher called.

"Nothing, Kreacher, don't worry about it," Harry said.

Harry sat down in the sitting room, putting his feet up. It'd been a long day and, Ginny's irrational anger notwithstanding, Harry felt he deserved a little rest. He leaned back, feeling his back crack in a number of locations, and was just about to close his eyes when a knock on the front door broke his reverie.

"Who's that?" Harry asked, his mind a bit muddled.

"Kreacher will get the door, Master Harry," the house-elf called. Harry could hear the door open and a brief exchange of voices. A moment later, Kreacher appeared at the entrance to the sitting room. Two people were behind him, one of whom Harry recognized, dimly.

"Master Harry, may I present Mistress Hermione Granger and Mistress Cailin Anderson, sir," Kreacher said, bowing.

"Cailin...Anderson?" Harry asked, sitting up. He was now fully awake. "You're Richard Anderson's daughter?"

"One and the same," the young woman standing beside Hermione said. Now that he was awake, Harry managed to get a good look at her. She stood about four inches taller than Hermione (which put her about three inches below Harry's own height), with blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore dark green robes that, Harry noticed, stopped much higher than Hermione's.

Harry was thrown. "Uh...Kreacher?" he said.

"Yes, sir," Kreacher said, still standing in front of Hermione and Cailin.

"Do you think you could make some more food for our guests?" Harry asked. "That is, if you two would care to join me for dinner?"

Hermione looked to Cailin, who nodded. "Sure," Cailin said, and Kreacher, bowing, moved quickly from the room, towards the kitchen. "We have a lot to talk about."

A few minutes of flurried cooking on Kreacher's part and Harry, Hermione, and Cailin were sitting down to dinner. "Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"She's...not so happy with me right now," Harry said, and Hermione looked stern. "Don't give me that look. We'll make up later." Harry quickly continued when Cailin looked confused. "Don't worry about it. It's not important right now."

Hermione looked ready to retort, but stifled the urge. "When I got home from the Ministry, Cailin was already there," she said. "She wanted to meet you."  
"Me?" Harry asked.

"Yes, you," Cailin said. "The man saying my Dad's alive."

"Then you don't think it's ridiculous?" Harry asked.

Cailin bit her lip. "They never returned his body," she explained. "They sent Mom's back, but Dad's...they said there wasn't anything left."

"I had no idea your mother died that day too," Hermione said.

"My parents weren't married," Cailin explained. "They were...a bit eccentric."

"How eccentric?" Harry asked.

Cailin looked down at her plate of food. "Were they Dark supporters, you mean?" she asked. "No. Hermione filled me in on what your Minister Early told you and there's no way it's true."

Harry proceeded gently. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Cailin smiled, totally without happiness. "There's no way my father could have done what they said he did," she said. "He was a muggle."

Harry's eyebrows both raised. "A muggle?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm a half-blood," Cailin said. "My mother was a witch."

"Why would the Ministry imprison a muggle for a magical crime?" Hermione asked.

"They don't know?" Harry asked.

"Please, how could they not?" Hermione said.

"They didn't know about me," Cailin said.

"Or they lied about knowing about you," Harry said.

"Why would they lie about that?" Hermione asked.

"Why would they lie about him attacking Hogsmeade?" Harry asked.

"My head hurts," Cailin said.

Harry and Hermione both stopped. Harry put down his fork, shaking his head. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."

"This is the problem with conspiracy theories," Hermione said. "There's never enough information."

Cailin regarded both of them. "So we find more information," she said.

Harry and Hermione both looked blank.

"Let's go see my Dad."

Harry, Cailin, and Hermione arrived at Azkaban prison shortly thereafter. This time, putting aside the cold feeling growing in his chest, Harry strode up to the massive gates and knocked, hard. The gates swung open in short order and Robert Orvil came hurrying out.

"Don't ever knock on the gates of Azkaban!" he said. "They're cursed."

"This whole place is cursed," Harry said, evenly. "We're here to see the man in cell 442."

"442?" Orvil asked, confused. As he ushered them inside, Harry saw him finger his wand, once, which twinkled, and the gates began to close. "What would you want with him?"

"Don't bother with that," Hermione said. "Just take us there."

"This is highly irregular," Orvil said. "I could count on one hand the number of visitors this place gets in a year and here you are, back again for the second time in a day..."

"Mr. Orvil," Harry said, bringing Orvil back to reality. "Take us to cell 442."

"But why?" Orvil asked.

"Because my father's in there," Cailin said, stepping forward. She had been shivering a moment before, but her anger superseded the Dementors' affect. "And there's no way he did what they say he did."

Orvil's eyes raised. "Please, Mr. Orvil," Harry said. "The records say that the man in cell 442 is William Marsh. This girl can prove that he's really called Richard Anderson – and he's a muggle."

"William Marsh is the prisoner in cell 442," Orvil said, outside his usual tone of voice. He was repeating something he'd read or heard elsewhere. "You say you have proof otherwise?"

"My name is Cailin Anderson," Cailin said. "I'm Richard Anderson's daughter."

"Highly irregular," Orvil muttered. He looked around at the three of them. "Well, you're already here. Why not."

"Thank you, Mr. Orvil," Harry said. The four of them proceeded to the center of the first floor, where they began to rise – fast. "Is there a problem?" Harry asked.

"No," Orvil said, shortly. Harry looked around at Cailin and Hermione and shrugged.

In short order, the four of them arrived on the forth floor. Harry led the way through the corridors (discreetly going around the chained Dementor) and presently, they stood before cell 442.

"Look, Cailin," Harry said, trying to sound gentle. "If you need to take a minute, this is a big thing you're about to do..."

"Yeah, yeah, _move_," Cailin said, pushing Harry away from the cell door and peering in. Although Harry couldn't see her face from behind, he could see that her posture stiffened. A moment later, she withdrew from the door. Her face looked as though she'd finally given in to the Dementors' presence. "That's him. No mistaking."

Orvil did a double take. "You're sure?" he asked. "Quite sure?"

Cailin dug around in her robes and withdrew a scrap of paper. "Here," she said. "Look at this."

Orvil took the piece of paper and read it. Letting it flutter out of his grasp, he too approached the cell door to look in. Harry picked up the piece of paper and read.

Boston Couple Slain in Accident in Britain

Harry didn't bother with the article. Underneat the headline was a picture of the two victims. One of them was a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Cailin; the other was the man in cell 442. Underneath the picture was a caption: Joanna York and Richard Anderson, victims.

Harry stepped over to the door, which Orvil had vacated in shock. Harry looked in, and saw that Anderson had not moved since he'd seen him that morning. Harry looked back at Cailin, helplessly. "It really is him."

Footsteps began to echo into hearing range. "Oh, good, they're here," Orvil said, pressing his back against the stone wall of the corridor and sliding down it.

"Here? Who's here?" Harry asked.

"About an hour ago, a notice went out to all Ministry officials to contact the Minister if Harry Potter was discovered poking around anywhere he didn't belong," Orvil said. "I alerted them to your presence when you were coming in."

Two Aurors Harry didn't know strode up to meet him. "Mr. Potter, we're under direct orders from Minister Early to bring you directly to him," one of them said. "You'll come with us now."

Harry looked around at Cailin and Hermione. "Can my friends come too?" he asked.

"All of you," the other Auror said. "Even you," he added, when Orvil looked ready to faint.

They proceeded back down the corridor to the center, where Orvil opened the floor. The six of them proceeded to fall rather float down to the main floor. Harry half expected to break something on contact, but Orvil managed to pull up just in time to prevent any serious injury.

"He's right outside," the first Auror said.

"The Minister of Magic is here?" Harry asked. "Just for me?"

"He's very upset with you, Mr. Potter," the second Auror said.

"Almost nineteen years old, saved the bloody world from unspeakable evil, and they still treat me like a kid," Harry muttered.

The gates parted quickly and Harry was brought face to face with a very angry looking Minister Francis Early. "Mr. Potter!" he yelled. "Why do I bother talking to you?"

"Why do you bother lying to me would be a better question," Harry said, taking the brunt of Early's fury without blinking.

"Lie?" Early asked. "What lie?"

"May I introduce Cailin Anderson, Minister Early," Harry said. "Her father is the man in cell 442."

Early sputtered. "A...daughter?" he asked, and for the first time he looked genuinely surprised. "Richard Anderson had a daughter?"

"Yes, he did," Cailin said. "And I'm not too happy about you wrongfully imprisoning my father."

"Wrongfully imprisoning?" Early sputtered again. "Young lady, you should get your facts straight. Your father committed a heinous act of barbarity and he is paying for his crime."

"My father couldn't have done what you say he did!" Cailin yelled. Early's face drained of color. "He's a muggle!"

"My dear girl," Early said, his voice suddenly quiet and measured. "That is simply not true."

"Yes, it is," Cailin said. "He and my mother met in Boston, Minister. She was a witch, he was a muggle. They were on vacation in Britain when they both died."

"Correction," Early said, still in a quiet, measured tone. "When your father murdered a cafe full of people, including your mother. You'll be Cailin York, won't you?"

Harry and Hermione looked at Cailin quizzically. "My parents weren't married, remember?" Cailin said. "My uncle's family adopted me after they died. That's how I came by the name Anderson."

"How touching," Early said. Despite the maintained tone Harry could detect a layer of malice just below the surface. "The daughter of a mass murderer, nourished and cared for. A happy ending."

Cailin's face boiled. "My father didn't kill anyone!"

Early exploded. "Your father is scum!" he shouted. "Your father is despicable! Your father is quite possibly the most disgusting excuse for a human being I have ever had the displeasure of coming across! The discussion _ends here_!" Early turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, I will have you brought to court and charged with every crime I can think of if I catch you anywhere you don't belong again. _Is that clear?_"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Good," Early said. He took a moment to straighten his robes. "That will be all, then. Good day. Do us the courtesy of leaving first, so that we may be sure you actually do go."

Harry scowled. "Come on, then," he said, and he, Hermione, and Cailin Disapparated.

"I can't believe him!" Cailin raged, once they materialized back in 12 Grimmauld Place. "He wouldn't even listen!"

"It was almost like he already knew," Hermione said.

Harry and Cailin turned to look at her. "Don't tell me you didn't notice his reaction to you, Cailin," Hermione said. "He was actually surprised to find out that you were Richard Anderson's daughter. He wasn't surprised to hear that Richard Anderson was a muggle."

"You're right," Harry said. "But what does that mean?"

"It means that we're going to have to talk to Richard Anderson," Hermione said.

"No dice, Hermione," Harry said. "The poor guy's been in their for more than a decade. I tried talking to him this morning and all I got out of him was his name and the word "death" over and over again."

"He might still be reachable," Hermione said. She chose her words very carefully. "If we were to remove that which is causing his...unbalance."

Harry took a moment to absorb the significance of what she'd just said. "You want to chase all the Dementors out of Azkaban?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione as though she were crazy.

"It'd probably be easier just to break him out."


End file.
